


Talk Me Home

by comebacknow



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: "Hey. It's Thomas right?", 11!Verse, A Rescue of Sorts, A Signal, A brutal reset, A stray, An old friend, Aris' Story, Bergs Trains and Trucks (oh my!), Brenda's Thoughts, Brenda's kiss, Broken windows, Character Death, Crank life, Creeping doubt, Damn teenagers, Elastic bands, Ever the Second-In-Command, Familiar Faces, Finding a Use for Micah, Flare symptoms, Forces in the West, Found Family, Gallair, Home, Immunity, Infection, Interesting First Dates, Long drives, M/M, Making space, Micah is a plumber, Midnight Wanderings, Mild Sexual Content, Neighbors, Newt Finds a Reason, Newt gets even, Newt has a...pretty good dream, Newt is done with Micah's shit, Newt the Repair Man, Newt's Admission, Newt's Decision, Newt's Limp, Newt's bedhead, Newt's got good aim, Newt's got them Muscles(tm), Newt's heart rate, Pendulums, Radio Reports, Reunions, Scars and scrapes, Shooting lessons, Shotguns, Six Months, Sleep is important, Sleeping arrangements, Survival, Talks underneath stars, Tea Leaves, The Arka Cliffs, The Importance of Color, The Importance of Moving, The Map Room, The Underground, Therapy, Things fall apart - literally and figuratively, Thomas gets his hands dirty, Thomas has a Dream(tm), Thomas is a twat about it, Thomas still hasn't learned how to sit in a truck, Thomas' Omission, Thomas' Thoughts Need Their Own Tag, Today is The Day, Train Heists, Trouble Sleeping, Unspoken words, Untold stories, Ways To Pass The Time, a tattered blanket that seems to make its rounds, a welcome distraction, almosts, barely even there mild, brenda has opinions, campfire memories, coming clean, common ground, doe eyes, everyone is always so tired, everyone is hungover, gap fic, he goes by thomas, hints at minor ocd tendencies, incredibly mild, injuries, long talks at night, mint - Freeform, newtmas - Freeform, plans a b c d e f g h..., shades of green, taking time, the docks, there's sand...everywhere, things left behind, thomas becomes the leader we know him to be, wheels - Freeform, whom tf is matt???, you either accept harriets help or you suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 221,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow
Summary: Minho was just taken by WCKD a week ago.  Thomas is still reeling from Teresa's abrupt betrayal, but he's got a plan to get his friend back - to get all of them back.  If all goes well, they'll be in the Safe Haven in two weeks.***All does not go well, they are not in the Safe Haven in two weeks, and Thomas' head is more clouded than ever.  With help from old and new friends, stolen moments that last a lifetime but are over too quickly, and the support from a full team-- Thomas' life begins to unravel in ways he never could have planned for, no matter how many maps he's poured over.





	1. On Introductions and Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly based on movie-verse. Sticking to canon as much as possible for this, though some names were created for characters who didn't have them mentioned in the movie. This story takes place over the course of 6 months between TST and TDC.
> 
> This prologue & first chapter are both short, because they're more focused on setting the scene and vibe of the story. The rest will (mostly) be longer.
> 
> Talk Me Home is the original story in Thomas' POV.  
> Reflections of Home is the same story from Newt's POV.  
> If you'd like to read the story in Newt's POV, you can do so [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905472/chapters/37072863)  
> This fic will be the exact same story, the same sequences of events, just in a different point of view. There will be no changes to the story.  
> *Please note that Reflections of Home is in progress and not complete.  
>  
> 
>    
> For more information on the 11!Verse, please follow the tag above and check out the other works in the universe. TMH chapters 1-12 are a canon prequel to the Call My Name series by KathSilver and a parallel of WCKD Knight by Tattered_Dreams. #WelcomeToThe11!Verse
> 
> [Please reach out before using any ideas/events/original characters that come from this fic!]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Brings Thomas a Blanket

**PROLOGUE:**

 

            _“Helluva speech, kid.  So, what’s your plan?”_

_Thomas swallowed Vince’s question down, looking around at the small group gathered. All eyes focused on him.  Slowly, other immunes turned toward the group, curiosity reeling them in despite the promise of danger; fabric and bamboo tied to string in a storm._

_His hands continued to fumble with the strap of his backpack.  His voice was ashy, still raw from the night before.  “You had a plan before we got here.  Move out this morning. You stick to it.  I want half of us moving out in the next hour to the Safe Haven.  Find it.  As for the rest of us? We clean out this camp, gather supplies and move as soon as we have a direction for WCKD.  Decide what group you’re in and get moving.”_

_“We’re gonna need a lot more than a direction to head in,” Harriet pointed out._

_Thomas nodded.  “That’s why I’m hoping you’re with us.”_

_“They’ve got Aris and Sonya.  I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”_

_One of the immunes stepped up.  “I can take the lead on the Safe Haven group.”_

_Thomas watched as the air changed around him, not just from the mountains, but from the people in front of him as well._

_WCKD left them destroyed, abandoned, hopeless.  They’d spent the better part of the night moving bodies, mourning friends, dry-heaving sobs off in the corner because the tears just wouldn’t come anymore.  Suddenly they had a purpose again._

_In a sudden shift, supplies were passed hand to hand, bags packed and tossed into trucks, goodbyes exchanged.  Lists, maps, and weapons.  Promises and pacts._

_“Well?”_

_Thomas turned to his best friend standing by his side; a feeling Thomas was quickly growing used to, growing thankful for. Despite the shadow hovering over them, Thomas felt the small smile forming over his words.  “We’re getting him back. And then the three of us are making it to the Safe Haven, and we’re never dealing with WCKD again.”_

_“Good that, Tommy.” The boy clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Good that.”_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 1: On Introductions & Insomnia**

 

 

            It was no surprise to Thomas that he wasn’t getting any sleep again tonight.  Every time he closed his eyes it was sparks of flame, blue electricity slicing darkness.  Every time he closed his eyes it was Minho, legs dragging ragged lines in the hard sand. 

            It’d been a week since he’d torn his throat raw from screaming his best friend’s name, and it was still dry, tender.  A scrape of sandpaper with each spoken word.  The screaming had been useless, he knew that, but it was all he could manage.  His mind replayed the moment every night, stripping away any hope he’d built up.  How could he ever expect to save Minho, when he couldn’t even stop them from taking him away in the first place?

            Thomas’ shoulders tensed on instinct before he even registered the sound of footsteps behind him.  His eyes shifted slightly, nerves springing to attention, his mind cataloguing everything in reach that could be used as a potential weapon.  His muscles slackened only a moment later, breath coming back, as he noted the uneven gait getting closer.

            “If you’re gonna stay out here all night again, you should at least take a blanket with you.”

            Thomas’ gaze slid to the left where a tattered once-white blanket dropped into the sand next to him.  Beyond that, two brown boots stepped into view, barely laced, as if they were just slipped on carelessly.

            “After everything we went through it’d be rather anti-climactic to have you put out with a cold, yeah?”  A small chuckle prefaced Newt dropping down to sit next to him, lanky arms resting on bent knees.

            Thomas brought his eyes forward again, looking across the mountains at the expanse of… nothing.  Nothing, in every direction.  “Thanks.”

            A weighted silence settled between them, only interrupted by the winds blowing through.  Thomas debated the irony of telling Newt he should go back to the tent and get some sleep, but was spared the thought when Newt spoke.

            “Remember the night that the Grievers attacked the Glade?”

            Thomas stilled.  Not quite the direction he thought they’d be conversing in, and the dark memory still clawed at his chest.  “Of course.”  He turned to Newt now, trying to read the boy’s face.

            Newt only nodded, staring off ahead of him.  “You remember, I suspect, when you went and stabbed yourself with a Griever stinger?”

            Thomas registered the huff of laughter as Newt turned to him with a smirk, but couldn’t bring himself to mirror it.  Confusion took over, as it often did these days. 

            “’Course you might not.  You were passed out half the night, now, weren’t you?” Newt sniffed a laugh in, his mouth an open smile in the cool air as he looked up to the sky, as if watching a projection of a memory from long ago.

            Thomas couldn’t help but continue to stare, thoughts racing, trying to follow.  “I…, yeah,” he cleared his throat.  “Yeah, I remember.”

            “Yeah, well,” Newt adjusted his legs, stretching them forward and bending them to their original position again, wrapping his arms around them.  “What you don’t remember, is what happened after we locked your butt up in the slammer.”

            “When Gally took over,” Thomas said in way of an answer.

            “Well,” Newt paused, squinting up at the darkened sky.  “Sort of.”

            Thomas watched as the boy released a captive sigh, one that seemed to have been held back for weeks, _months_ maybe.

            “Tommy, when those Grievers came through,” Newt dropped his gaze to his hands, a small laugh chasing them.  “Now you know none of us had ever seen one before. No matter how many times I ran that maze with Minho, never in my life had I seen one.”     

            “Wait, wait,” Thomas jolted, shaking his head a bit, replaying the words.  “You were a runner?”

            Newt turned to him, laughter stilled behind him eyes, “yeah, Tommy.”

            Thomas tilted his head.  “How come…?” The words faded into the night.  He didn’t know which question to ask first.

            “That’s a story for another time,” Newt smiled, angling his head back to the stars.  “Now, the story is about the night of the attack.”

            Thomas nodded, though Newt wasn’t looking at him.        

            “I’ve never been that scared in my life, you know?  At least, not that I could remember.  Even coming up in the box, Nick and Alby looking down on me.  I wasn’t scared.  I mean, nervous, yeah.  But I’d never felt terror until that night.”

            Thomas swallowed.  Dry, hollow.  Sandpaper again.  _It was my fault._

            “Running through that night, fearing for everyone’s lives.  Watching my friends-,” Newt’s sentence ended in an abrupt breath, choked out of him. Still, the hint of a smile remained.  Ever positive, ever hopeful.  “Seeing what happened to Alby, to Billy, to Zart… It wasn’t easy.”

            Thomas kept his eyes on the boy’s profile, watching his brown eyes flicker from star to star as he said the names, as if he were speaking to each of them individually.  In a sudden adjustment of his posture, Newt was back in focus, sounding as if he were mentioning the weather in passing.

            “Of course, after the attack, Gally decided to end it with a fist in your face and you thought stinging yourself was a great idea,” he laughed.  “And then, everything started changing.”

            “Gally took over,” Thomas mumbled, filling in the gaps.

            Newt only tilted his head to the side.  “Well, kind of.  I handed over the reins, in the end.”

            “Wait,” Thomas’s hand instinctively reached out, landing on Newt’s elbow.  “What do you mean you handed over the reins?  I thought Gally formed an army or whatever.”

            “An army?” Newt turned to him now, eyes locking, mirth behind them.   “D’you really think Gally was capable of forming an army against anything?”

            Thomas let his hand drop from Newt’s elbow.

            “No,” Newt continued, “I let him.  I was…at a loss, to say the least.”

            Thomas watched as something dark flickered across Newt’s face.  Some shadow he couldn’t quite give a name to.

            “Watching the Glade become that wreckage, our friends getting injured or worse?  I couldn’t take that.  Couldn’t bear it.  Gally said I was losing my edge, and he was right.”

            “Gally was a dick, Newt.”

            “No.”  Newt’s voice came out sharp, full now.  There was no mistaking the intent behind the word.  “No, Gally was right.  I wasn’t in the right mind.  I couldn’t handle that pressure. Not then.”

            Thomas swallowed, watching his friend’s profile.  His dark eyes sinking from the stars, to the horizon, to the mountains, to the rocks below. 

            “I let him take charge.”

            “But, you already had that plan in motion when I woke up the next morning.”

            “Minho.”

            “What?”

            “Minho.  He pulled me aside after the attack.  Sat me down for a bit.  He told me about the night you two were stuck in the Maze together.  He told me how you didn’t give up hope, how you were determined.  He told me how you survived.”

            Thomas shook his head, the words barely coming out, “it wasn’t that serious. It was all luck.”

            “Well then you’ve got quite a four-leaf clover there, Tommy,” Newt nudged him with his shoulder before continuing, eyes still somewhere in the distance.  “No, I may not have been in there with you two, but from what Minho said, it wasn’t luck.  And, no offense, but I’ll take Minho’s word on it.

            “That night the Grievers came he told me that no matter what happened after that night, no matter what Gally did the next morning, we should put our trust in _you_ because you were the one who would be able to get us out.”

            Thomas swallowed.  Minho said that. Minho really thought that about him.

            “And now, I know without a doubt that Minho is with WCKD right now, fighting and holding himself together because he _knows_ you’re out here.  He knows how strong you are, how smart and how one-track-minded you can be.  He knows you’ll come after him, and he knows you’ll get it done, no matter how abrasive you are about it.”  Newt turned to look at him now.  “And I know it, too.”

            Thomas held his gaze for another brief moment before he offered the smallest of nods. 

            “Right,” Newt spoke up, voice coming just a bit louder now, abandoning his previous low hum of words.  “Well, I’m going to get some sleep.  Don’t want to greet Minho with shadows under my eyes.  Last thing I need is for him to greet me with some snarky remark about not dressing myself up for him.  Rather not give him ammo, y’know?” Newt clapped a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, and Thomas let him use it as a boost to pull himself back up to stand.  “Night, Tommy.”

            “Night, Newt,” he said over his shoulder as the boy made his way back to his tent.

            Thomas’ eyes fell onto the ragged white blanket left next to him.  He slowly dragged it over his legs.  He knew he should be getting sleep, but more than that, he knew he wouldn’t rest until Minho was back with them. 

            _He_ thought _Thomas_ was the strong one.  A small huff of a laugh issued from his chapped lips, fading into the wind.

            “I’ll see you soon, Minho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the intro to this. It's technically my first chaptered fic, since I tend to just write drabbles or headcanons. Or just bulleted incoherent sentences.
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Regarding the Prologue: Toyed with the idea of including this, but I sort of wanted a bit of a preface, honestly. I thought it would be a good idea to leap right off from where the movie did. Just wanted to briefly touch on what Thomas' immediate reaction would have been when Vince asked what his plan was, and how the group got moving. There were plenty of survivors still from the mountains, and I wanted to sort of break into how their group may've gotten a bit smaller for the Rescue Mission.
> 
> 2\. I know this starts off pretty slow, but I wanted to explore Thomas' doubts before they leave the camp. This is one of the first times the group is in control of what they're doing, and moving toward something instead of away. It's a different change for them and, somehow, Thomas has found himself at the helm of it all. On top of this, he feels helpless from losing his best friend and not being able to stop it. Needed to get that out there to set his pace of the story.
> 
> 3\. I sort of wanted to bring back bits and pieces of time in the Glade. The night of the Griever attack was an opportunity to explore what happened while Thomas was knocked out in the Slammer. I wanted to touch on how the others may have reacted, while also bringing in Newt and Minho's friendship as well. Newt was in a new leadership position and it hadn't exactly been going smoothly. He just lost more friends than he's realized, he's losing control of the routine, and doesn't know where to turn. I feel like in this situation, Minho would be the one to take him to the side and talk him down (as he's been known to do - sorry for bringing that up) so I wanted to touch on that. Plus, that gave me the opportunity for Thomas to realize that Minho is counting on him, that he trusts him. It gives Thomas an extra vote of confidence, especially coming from Newt on top of that.


	2. On Leaving and Leading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Needs to Learn to Make Decisions

            Thomas tossed another knapsack into the bed of one of Jorge’s truck, ignoring the ache in his muscles.  He fell asleep on the hard sand again, woke up in that tattered blanket under the heat of a blazing sun, and now he was paying for it.  He cricked his neck to the side before he heard his name called from within Vince’s tent. 

            He pushed the flap aside as he walked in and found Vince hovered over a rickety, uneven slab of wood balanced on buckets, a torn-up map pieced together in front of him.  “What’s up, Vince?”

            Vince barely looked up before he waved him over with a hand.  “Wanna show you a spot I may’ve found.”

            Thomas walked around the edge of the wooden slab and peered down at the map, heart picking up at the anticipation of leaving.  This was it: they were going to get Minho back.

            “We’re in this general area now,” Vince pointed to a spot with his finger and dragged it across a ragged line.  “If we head East from here like we said, we have options.  We either take this road around here,” he traced a long narrow path around a curve before going back to the starting point, “or we cut through the caves here.” Vince traced a straight path with his finger.

            Thomas nodded, glancing between the two paths.

            “Now, I know this is your mission, but I feel like I have a responsibility to give my input here.”

            “Trust me, any input is welcome.”

            “Well, the path is good.  We have light, we’ll be able to see our surroundings and all that,” he shrugged.  “But the caves could provide an opportunity we haven’t played with yet.  The darkness is a hiccup, but I’ve checked with Jorge.  We’ve got plenty of flashlights and lanterns with us, and the cars have decent headlights.  Joe’s is missing the right one, but we can manage.  More importantly,” he stood up now and gestured to Thomas’ neck.  “The cave coverage might interfere with those tracking devices you’ve got there.  Even if it didn’t, we’d be out of sight from any bergs anyway.  Could definitely buy us some time.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Seems like pros all around.”

            Vince’s head tilted just slightly as he bent back over the map.  “Not quite, son.  If we take the outside path, it’s narrow.  We can’t take the trucks and we’ve got too much equipment to carry by hand.  It’ll take the better part of three days, which means setting up camp twice.  The caves would only be one overnight stay, but we don’t know who could be lurking in there.  Or what.  It’s going to be completely dark and shut in.  We’ll have the trucks, so we’ll be able to get through, supposing there’s nothing blocking our…” Vince’s voice faded to a stop.

            “What? What is it?” Thomas could practically see the wheels turning as Vince’s eyes stayed locked on the mountain pass.  “What is it, Vince?”

            “I wonder about a possible cave-in.”

            “Like, while we’re in there?”

            Vince’s eyes widened even more.  “Hell, Thomas.  I just meant a prior one that would stop us from getting out, but now we’ve got the possibility of it caving in on us.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “You think the narrow passage would be safer.”  He meant it as a question, but then, it didn’t need to be by the look on Vince’s face.

            “Thomas, this is your mission.  I’m only giving you my thoughts.  Originally, I thought the cave was the way to go.  Now, I’m not so sure.”

            Thomas took a breath.  “Maybe we should ask the others.”

            “Thomas, look at me.  A democracy is all good and well, but a group needs a leader.  Looks to me like that’s you.  If they’re following you into this, you’ve gotta show them you can lead.  This decision needs to be yours.  They see your confidence, they’re liable to mirror it.  Now I’m not saying charge headfirst into danger to exhibit an air of bravery, but some decisions you’re gonna need to make on your own.  I think this is one of ‘em.”

            A spark fluttered through Thomas’ bones.  He’d never been the one to come up with plans, he usually took a more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of approach.  Deciding to take the extra time to really have a solid outline was necessary for this, for Minho.  They couldn’t afford any slip-ups.  Thomas started this mission and Vince was right, he needed to make this decision.  “Who else knows about the passages?”

            “Me and Jorge.”

            “Brenda too, then.”

            “Likely, but maybe not.  Jorge doesn’t seem to want to put any stress on her, despite her insistence she’s fine.  A week after a near-death, Jorge’s still rattled with her status.  Beats me why.  Girl’s shown more resilience in the past few days than I’ve seen people twice her age show.  She’s got some strength in her.  Bravery that even I haven’t seen.”

            _Strength. Bravery._

            The words triggered the previous night’s conversation to ignite back in Thomas’ head.  Minho was counting on him, just like he did in the Maze, just like he did in the Scorch.  Thomas had let him down once, he wouldn’t do it again.

            “We take the caves.  We need the trucks, it’s no good to leave them behind.  It’ll be faster and we need time on our side.”

            “And if we come across something? Or someone?”

            Thomas just shook his head.  “I can’t afford to think about that right now.  We’ll deal with it when it comes.  Get the trucks loaded and ready to head out in ten.” Thomas turned on his heel and started toward the exit.

            “Thomas,” Vince called.

            He turned over his shoulder to look at him, and saw a fierce smile.  “Hold onto that fire.”

            Thomas nodded once before leaving the tent.  Vince was right.  He’d hold onto the fire.  He’d bottle it up and set WCKD ablaze. 

 

***

 

             Thomas let Fry pull him up into the bed of Jorge’s truck, using the back tire as a stepping point.  He hurdled the side of it until he was seated, issuing two small bangs on the side of the grate.  “Let’s head out!”

            He watched as Vince’s truck lead the way, Jorge’s following, and a third behind them driven by Joe.  The truck bed beneath Thomas rumbled as they took off across the sand, leaving behind the camp WCKD had destroyed.  The camp Teresa had given up.  Thomas turned his head forward again, willing her out of his memory.

 

            The drive was long, tiring. Arduous.

 

            Every time the truck hit a bump, a jolt of pain spiked up through Thomas’ spine.  His eyes were heavy, but his mind turned over and over.  The little sleep he got was enough to give him the merest bit of energy, but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer if he kept this up for another week.  If all went well, he wouldn’t have to, and Minho would be back safely by then, but he knew how things tended to work out for him, and he didn’t let himself hope much further than he could reach.

            He let his eyes wander along the mountains as they drove past, crooked lines and fractures intertwining and melding into one another.  A moment later, he felt eyes on him and turned to meet Frypan’s gaze.

            The boy gave a simple nod to him.  “Doin’ alright?”

            Thomas nodded back, clearing his throat to speak over the sounds of crunching sand and rock below them.  “Yeah, you?”

            “Good.”

            “How can he sleep through this?” Thomas nodded toward Newt, huddled under a blanket against the truck’s cabin, eyes shut, mouth falling open just a bit.

            Fry’s laughter carried through the scraping tires.  “Boy’s gotta be exhausted. Didn’t get much sleep last night.  Every time I woke up, he was sitting up in the tent, like he was waiting for something,” Fry shook his head.  “Was up before any of us this morning, too.”

            Thomas’ eyes landed on Newt again.  Seems he wasn’t the only one not getting sleep until they got Minho back.  Thomas’ gaze shifted to the approaching cave mouth ahead.  “There it is.”

            “We’re going in there?” Fry called back to him.

            “It’s our best option.”  Thomas flicked his gaze to note Fry’s expression, but Fry only nodded back to him, face clear of any hesitation.  Something about it sent a small spark of fire down in Thomas’ chest.  Vince was right: confidence follows confidence.  Thomas only hoped he could keep it up long enough to save Minho.  He only hoped his façade would eventually turn into something real.

            The trucks slowed to a stop at the entrance to the cave, and Thomas leaned over the truck bed to see Vince hop out of his truck, flagging him down.

            “Wha’s goin’ on?”  A slurred voice dragged itself to Thomas’ ears.

            “Don’t worry, Newt.  Go back to sleep.”  Thomas barely glanced over at his friend before he swung his legs over the edge of the truck gate and hopped down, boots landing hard on the ground, swirls of dirt spiraling into the air.  He made his way toward Vince and met him off to the side as Jorge and Joe joined them.

            “What’s going on?” Thomas asked.

            Vince looked to him.  “Just checking in if anyone needs a stop before we head in there.  Don’t know what’s awaiting us in that darkness, anything that needs to be taken care of in the light of day should be taken care of now.  Make sure you know where weapons and food are in the trucks.  Get flashlights and lanterns at the ready.”

            “There’s only three of us in my truck,” Joe cut in, already walking back.  “I’ve got about four lights.  I can pass two on.”

            “Thanks, Joe.”  Thomas turned back to the group.  “I’ve got one in my pack.   Not sure about Fry and Newt.”

            “Brenda’s got two in her bag.” Jorge added.

            “The headlights will get us far enough, so don’t turn them on until we absolutely need to,” Vince nodded. 

            “What’s the drive time looking like?” Jorge asked.

            “We’ve been movin’ at about 45 miles,” Vince squinted in the direction of the cave.  “Don’t know that I wanna keep moving at that speed until we know what’s in there.  Gauge it from there, I guess.”

            “I want us moving as fast as we can,” Thomas added.  The two turned to him as Joe jogged back to the group and passed the extra lights out.  “The less time we have to be in there, the better.  I want to cut straight through.  Any time we can spare is important.”

            Vince nodded, a hint of a smile on him.

            “Oi!”

            Thomas and the others turned toward the back of Jorge’s truck, where Newt leaned over the edge on his chest, arms dangling.  “We moving?”

            “Yeah, we’re going now!” Thomas called back.  He turned to the others, noting Jorge’s raised brows.  “He didn’t get much sleep last night apparently.”

            Jorge nodded, “not the only one, I’m sure.”

            “Harriet told me she barely slept a wink.  Girl seems a mess.  Keeps nodding off in the passenger seat,” Joe added.

            Thomas struggled to gather his thoughts.  This was never going to work with everyone falling asleep. 

            “Thomas,” Vince started, “I don’t wanna be the one to suggest it.”

            “Then don’t.”

            “He’s right, hermano.  If we keep pushing ahead like this, we’ll be useless at the final stretch.  We’re gonna need to stop.”

            Thomas ran a tongue across his lips, shifted his stance. He looked over to the cave wall.

            “Thomas, you’re saving almost a full day’s travel just by cutting through the cave.  On my watch that puts us ahead of schedule.”

            Thomas looked back to Vince now, running over his words again.  “That’s our schedule, not WCKD’s.  They could be torturing him right now.”

            “You’re not gonna get there any faster dragging your feet _and_ your friends’ feet through the Scorch, boy.”

            Thomas’ gaze shifted to Joe.  He knew they were right.  He turned back to the truck, but Newt was gone from his position on the truck gate, possibly curled against the back of the cab again. He let out a long breath.  “Fine.”  He turned back to the group.  “Fine.  But we get in there first.  I don’t want us out here in the open any more than we need to be.  And like you said, Vince: the coverage might knock out some of these trackers.”

            Vince gave a quick nod.

            “You drive until we’re about half through, though, okay?”

            “You got it, boss.”

            Thomas bit down on the odd feeling of a man older than him calling him boss, and turned back to make his way to Jorge’s truck again.

            “Good choice there, Thomas,” Joe spoke up next to him.

            “Thanks.”

            “I can see why they all follow you without hesitation.”

            Thomas stopped at the bed of the truck and watched Joe as he offered a small wave and walked toward his truck behind them.  Thomas wasn’t sure he could see why anyone would follow him anywhere, least of all back into WCKD’s compound. 

            A yawn threatened escape and Thomas swallowed it down, but another one came right after.  Despite his want to keep going, sleep would be necessary. Thomas knew they were right.  He could just about see through the dusty windshield of Joe’s truck where Harriet leaned back in the passenger’s seat, eyes closed until she jolted up, pointing a shotgun at Joe as he opened the door.

            There was no way they’d be rescuing anyone like this.

            Thomas hoisted himself up into the bed of the truck and hopped in, issuing another two bangs on the side, and let Vince lead the brigade into the darkness of the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Vince: This chapter was important to me because I needed to establish how the relationship between Thomas and Vince develops. Bearing in mind that this is Thomas' first mission where he's actively making an effort to plan things out, it's new to him. He's not in the habit of this, clearly, so he turns to Vince for help. Vince is trying to push Thomas in the direction to be a leader that people can follow without question. He wants to make sure Thomas knows that if he falters, so too will everyone else. He also recognizes that Thomas is a young kid, and needs help. I loved watching how closely they worked together in TDC, so I wanted to work a bit on seeing how they got to that point.
> 
> 2\. The Narrow Path vs. The Tunnel: I needed to show Thomas struggling with a decision, and having to make a big choice on his first day moving out from the camp would give him a kickstart to his new leadership position that he sort of adopted. They both have pros and cons, and it was up to Thomas to weigh them and eventually make a decision. Whether or not he chose the best decision is up to interpretation.
> 
> 3\. Joe: I needed a third "adult" in this story, because I hardly believe only Vince and Jorge would have gone with the group, but I could obviously be wrong. There were still plenty of survivors after WCKD attacked the camp, and I bet the main cast aren't the only ones who've lost people. I imagine background characters want revenge, too. So along with Joe, there will be other immunes from camp that will be introduced later - keep an eye out! (Joe's name came from the end of TST, when Sonya leads the Gladers out of the tunnel toward the camp and yells, "back it up, Joe!")
> 
> 4\. Everybody loves sleepy!Newt, so I had to have him make a brief appearance. Have a bonus sleepy!Harriet, too.
> 
> 5\. Don't worry! We get a lot more of Newt in chapters to come. This one is still setting up Thomas' beginning of the journey. Thomas' POV can be a pain in the ass, but other times, you'll thank me for it. Probably.


	3. On Dreams and Drives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Frypan Admits a Fear

            There was no way to tell how much time had passed from within the cave.  Even looking through the back windshield of the truck didn’t give Thomas a clear view of the dashboard clock.  He wasn’t even sure if it worked.  He stopped thinking about how many minutes, how many _hours_ they were in this tunnel.  He stopped thinking about how many hours Minho had been captured.

            The headlights guided their way, but after the first few stretches of the empty path Thomas stopped watching and, instead, focused on recounting the supplies in the backpack:  flashlights, a pen, one can of food from camp, a scarf and more all tucked close to each other and shoved inside the canvas bag.  He unscrewed the flashlight, let the batteries fall into his hand.  He put them back in and screwed it back together.  On.  Off.  On.  Off. _Yep, still works._ Another sigh.  Another attempt at refolding the scarf.  Another test on his hand to see if the pen worked.  Another yawn while tying up the bag.  Another glimpse of startling blue eyes in his memories.

            Blue like electricity.

            Thomas untied the bag again.

            Flashlight.

            Batteries.

            On. Off.

            On. Off.

 

            On his fourth recount, the trucks finally rolled to a stop deep within the cave.  Thomas strained his eyes, but even with the glow from the headlights, there wasn’t much to be seen.  The rumbling of the trucks fell silent, and Thomas watched as the first set of headlights turned off and Vince hopped out of the truck and into the light of Jorge’s.  Thomas slid out from the truck bed after Fry lowered the gate, and walked over to meet him. 

            “As much as we need the light, we’re gonna be no good if the truck batteries die out.  We’re midway through.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Alright.  You think we should stop here? What about the dark? Flashlights, then?”

            “You tell me.  You’re the leader, remember?”

            Thomas felt his jaw clench as he turned the options over in his head.  He was quickly hating being the one in charge.  “Set up camp quickly.  Bare necessities only.  No tents.  That way we can get back up and moving in a few hours.”

            Vince gave him a clap on his shoulder with a small smile.  “Let ‘em know.  I’ll get anything we’ll need from my truck.”

            Thomas turned to see Joe and Jorge already walking toward him.  He gave them a quick rundown, stifling a yawn behind his words.

            Joe responded with a yawn of his own, “for the best.  I’m pretty worried about Harriet.  She keeps dazing out of conversation, I can’t tell if it’s from distraction or just plain grogginess.  I mean, she’s got a lot going on, but I’m afraid it’s gonna end up more of a distraction than anything else.”

            “It’s fine,” Thomas waved his words away.  “We’ll just get a few hours in on solid ground.  It’ll help.”

            He could see the concern in Joe’s face.  He was only in his twenties, but the exhaustion and worry made him seem older. “Thomas, if Harriet pulls another gun on me after accidentally waking her, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop her again.” 

            Thomas waved his comment off.  What did he expect Thomas to do, build a hotel? Stop time? Ask WCKD to hold off on torturing his friend so they could get some sleep?  “A few hours, that’s it.”

            “I’ll go wake Brenda.  Wish me luck,” Jorge winked at them before turning back to the truck.

            Thomas walked back to the bed of the truck, Fry and Newt both squinting in the light from Joe’s truck. 

            “Campin’ here, then?”

            “Yeah,” Thomas gestured to the discarded blanket next to Newt.  “Only necessities.  It’s gonna be uncomfortable but we need to rest before we move on.”

            “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Fry added.  “Between the two of you I can’t tell who’s gonna collapse first.”

            Thomas caught the look Newt shot at Frypan, but couldn’t quite place it.  He focused instead on what they’d need.  “Whatever blankets you can get.  Grab one of the flashlights, we don’t need them all.”

            “Where’s the one you’ve been playing with for the last ten miles?”

            Thomas pointed to his bag and stretched his legs a bit as Newt reached over to fish it out of the bag.  “Leave whatever you can in the truck.  We need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, just in case.”

            “In case of what?” Fry looked back at him.  “Is there something in the cave?”

            “No, I don’t know. Maybe.”

            “Well that’s reassuring.”

            “Not now, Newt.”  The retort fell out of Thomas’ mouth before he could stop himself and he looked up to see Newt raising a brow at him.  “Sorry, I don’t-,”

            “S’alright, Tommy.  I know you get cranky when you don’t sleep.”  The boy crouched down on the edge of the truck bed so he was just about level with Thomas’ gaze.  “Do us a favor, yeah? Get some actual sleep tonight.” The boy’s mouth tilted up in the hint of a smirk as he passed his blanket to Thomas. 

            “Yeah,” Thomas took the tattered white cloth.  “You too.”

            “Lead by example, mate.”  He clasped a hand on Thomas’ shoulder and hopped down from the bed of the truck, giving the barest of stumbles.  He grabbed the blanket back from Thomas and wandered off to where the others started laying out their own blankets as a makeshift camp.

            Thomas dragged his eyes back and reached up to help Frypan down, and as the boy landed next to him his eyes found Thomas’, a heavy look in them.  “You’ve noticed too?”

            “Hm?”

            “I see you watching.  His leg.  It’s gotten worse.”

            Thomas turned his head to look back to Newt.  Sure enough, the boy was slowly lowering himself down, slyly using the cave wall for balance.  Thomas thought back for a moment in his memories – the few he had – before he turned to Fry.  “How’d it happen?”

            A small hint of surprise flashed along Fry’s face.  “He didn’t tell you?”

            “No.”

            The boy swallowed, his gaze shifting past Thomas in the direction of their friend.  “That’s not my story to tell, Thomas.”  His eyes caught back on Thomas’ again.  “But don’t worry.  He’s strong, he won’t let it stop him.  Just,” he seemed to struggle for words before continuing.  “Just don’t let him strain it if you can help it.  He’ll swear up and down he’s fine, that it doesn’t bother him, but Newt’s stubborn.  Doesn’t know when to stop sometimes.  He’d break in a million pieces if it meant saving his friends, and he’d never think twice about it.”

            Thomas looked back at Newt now, kneeling across the camp and helping Brenda lay out another blanket.  Somehow, he already knew all of this about Newt.  The boy’s tenacity was something that pushed him to carry on, even if he didn’t realize it.  Lines of stress, shadows of restless nights all marred his face. He looked like he could break into a million pieces already.  “I’ll make sure he never has to.”

            “Good that.”

            Thomas was broken out of his gaze as Fry’s hand lightly clapped him on the back before the boy walked past him and made his way over to help set up camp. 

            “Good that,” he responded to Fry’s absence, barely above a whisper.

 

            .

 

            Harriet’s voice shot through the darkness.  “For the love of God, whoever keeps moving better stop it or I will beat you until you _can’t_ move anymore.”

            “Why is every other thing out of your mouth a threat?”

            “Guys, please stop, this is the fourth time.”

            “I’ll stop when one of you Sticks stops moving every goddamn three minutes.”

            Thomas released another breath through his nose as the bickering continued somewhere to his left.

            “Y’alright, Tommy?” Newt’s voice came close to him, softly, beneath some violent comment from Brenda regarding a shotgun.

            Thomas turned his head to the right and shifted his eyes up to meet Newt’s where he laid head to head with him.  “Yeah, just wondering if it was even worth it to stop.”

            Though he could barely see Newt in the darkness, he heard the small huff of laughter, the boy’s breath ruffling Thomas’ hair.  He heard movement before Newt’s voice rang out above the others’.  “Oi! Everybody slim it now! Stop moving and just lie down and sleep.  If you wanna keep fightin’ we can just get back in the trucks and keep it movin’ until we pass out from exhaustion.  Is that what you want?”

            “Talk to me like that agai-.”

            “Harriet, please.”  Thomas heard the voice but couldn’t place a name to it.  Had to be one of the other immunes from camp.

            He heard a sigh and then, “fine.  I’m done.”

            A couple more sounds of shifting echoed against the cave walls as Newt laid back in his position, stretching out in the opposite direction from Thomas.  He bit down on his thank you he wanted to give Newt, not wanting to cause anymore disturbances.  He’d pass on the message in the morning.  For now, he should probably get to…  


 

              _“Hey, you okay?” Thomas trudged up the rocks. “What’re you doing up here?”_

_The blue eyes glanced back at him before turning away again.  “Just thinking.”_

_“Alright, I’ll let you be alone.”  Thomas made to turn away, but felt a hand grab his._

_Her voice dripped like venom, echoed with rage.  “We’re not alone, Thomas.  They’ll always find you.”_

_He looked down to the hand on his arm, scratched, covered in black veins, fingers drenched in a darkened blood that was slowly running onto his own skin.  He looked up and a silent scream issued from his raw throat as he stumbled backward, falling out of her grip onto the hard rock below._

_Those blue eyes, they were gone.  Torn out with her own hands._

_“Please don’t fight them, Thomas.” She reached down toward him now, veins darkening by the second._

_He scrambled backward, further and further, until his hand slipped on a loose rock and he fell back, back, back…_

__  
  
  


“THOMAS!”

            A thousand needles pierced his cheek suddenly as his eyes flung open and landed on Brenda, breathing down from above him in the darkness, her hand arching back ready to swing down again.

            “No, _stop!_ He’s awake!” Newt came into view in the beams of a flashlight, grabbing her wrist. “He’s awake,” he breathed out.

            Thomas blinked himself back into the cave, panting, looking at everyone around him.  _Eyes.  Everyone had two eyes._

            He found Newt’s.

            “Thomas, you alright?”

            “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”  Thomas let himself be pulled up into a sitting position by Brenda and Newt, Fry’s hand at his back.  Now that his conscious was fully back, he took in the sight around him: several flashlights lit up their camp area and everyone – _everyone_ – was looking at him.

            “Nightmare?” Joe squinted down at him.

            “Uh, yeah, I guess.  I’m good.  I’m fine.”

            “Alright. Well, if you’re sure, we should get a move on.”

            “Yeah, yeah.  Let’s move out.”  Thomas cricked his neck as the group began to disperse, gathering up the bits and pieces of their makeshift camp.

            “Here,” Harriet reached out toward him with a canteen.  “Have some water, your voice sounds like shit.”

            Thomas took the canteen from her and she turned on her heel and took off toward Joe’s truck.

            “Well she certainly doesn’t hold back on the charm, does she?” Newt asked.

            “Man, she scares me a bit.”

            Thomas finished his third sip from the canteen and looked up at Frypan.  “Really?”

            “She’s not scary, she’s just upset,” Newt shrugged.  “Think of how we feel about Minho.  WCKD took _two_ of her friends.  She’s alone in this.”

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            “Come on, Fry,” Newt slung an arm around Fry, but Thomas didn’t miss how it doubled as assistance for him to stand up.  “No need to be scared, no one would ever hurt you anyway. No reason to.”

            “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

            Thomas furrowed his brows, pushing himself up to stand with the others.

            A look of guilt washed over Fry’s face as he continued, “I was the one who kept moving around last night.”

            Thomas’ eyes immediately found Newt’s and the two held each other’s gaze, each of their mouths shut tight, but to no avail – a second later an explosion of laughter came from the two of them, echoed by Fry’s own.  Thomas’ stomach cramped beneath the gasps, vision blurring with tears.  When he was finally able to stand straight and look at the other two again, he saw them in complete mirth, Newt’s arm around Fry’s neck, his face pressed into his shoulder, hiccupping laughter issuing out through a wide smile.  Fry reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as Jorge called out to them.  “Let’s go, boys!  Burnin’ fuel!”

            Thomas put his hands on his friends’ shoulders, spinning them toward the truck, laughter leading their way.

 

…

 

            Thomas was able to steal a few more minutes of rest here and there as the trucks moved forward through the tunnel, but he was always jolted awake with the small shifts as they drove over a rock, or by the sound of the supplies shifting as they skirted a pile of rocks taking up half of the passage.  After the first three or four attempts, Thomas finally gave up on resting and, a moment later, he heard scuffling next to him.

            He turned to squint into the single working headlight from Joe’s truck behind them, and could just make out Newt’s silhouette as he pulled himself over to sit next to Thomas.

            Thomas brought a hand up above his eyes to try to shield some of the harsh light.  “What’s up?”

            Newt took his time settling in next to Thomas, adjusting himself so he could lean on the truck’s edge, burying a bag behind his back and stretching his legs out.  Thomas had a flash of a thought, and briefly considered asking Newt about the injury.  He bit back on it, not quite sure how to phrase it.

            After Newt made himself comfortable, he finally spoke up.  “Figured I’d come check how you’re doing.  Seems like you had another lovely dream last night.”

            Thomas felt his chest hollow slightly.  He knew nothing good would come from bringing up Teresa, least of all to Newt.  Thomas could still clearly remember the look on the boy’s face when Thomas brought her name up at the camp just days after she sold them out to WCKD.  It was evident Newt didn’t regard her with any amount of respect anymore. 

            Thomas’ eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, fidgeting with a loose thread from his jacket.  “It was nothing, really.”  He could feel Newt’s eyes on him in the silence.

            “I get the dreams, too.”

            Thomas’ eyes moved just slightly in Newt’s direction, but he didn’t speak.  They clearly weren’t talking about the same dreams.

            “Seeing him being taken time and time again.  Only sometimes, it’s not him.  Sometimes it’s Alby.  Sometimes it’s Winston.  Sometimes it’s Frypan.”

            Thomas could hear Newt turn to face him.  Slowly, he lifted his own eyes to meet his.

            “Sometimes it’s you.”

            Thomas’ heart stuttered at the look in Newt’s eyes.  The fear in them laced with a hint of something… else. Something other.

            “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up, and one of you will be gone. Taken from me.”

            “That’s not gonna happen.”

            Newt only dropped his gaze to his fidgeting hands in his lap.

            “Newt, we’re all still here.  WCKD isn’t going to take anyone else from us.  I won’t let them.”

            “I know you won’t, Tommy.  I know.”

            Thomas’s heart nearly stopped this time at the defeat in Newt’s voice.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Newt moved first.  The boy straightened back up, his head raised, hands folded.  “I think… when I see him, a joke about being shocked would be good.”  He turned and Thomas’ eyes snagged on the lopsided smile now spreading on his face.  “I think he would appreciate that, seeing as he actually got shocked quite a few times.  What do you think?”

            Thomas swallowed, attempting some form of smile.  “Yeah, yeah that’d be pretty funny.”

            “Come on, Tommy,” Newt nudged him with his shoulder.  “It’s hilarious.  Let’s see you come up with something better, then.”

            Thomas breathed a small laugh through his nose.  “I’ve got nothing.”  He felt Newt’s arm land across his shoulders. 

            “It’s alright, comedy was never your strong suit.”

            “Hey,” Thomas genuinely laughed now, jabbing an elbow into Newt’s ribs, earning him another laugh in response, and in the single headlight of Joe’s truck, Thomas took in the scene of his best friend leaning his head back, smiling into the glow, and any memory of his nightmare of Teresa was chased out.

 

..

 

            Thomas was jolted awake yet again from an abrupt stop of the truck and a muffled “oomph!” somewhere next to him.  He pried his eyes open and blinked in the darkness, his bearings slowly coming back.

            He felt a weight on his leg and reached his hand out.

            “Thomas, you damn shank!” Newt’s hand swatted at Thomas’ as the weight lifted and he sat up.  “Poke my bloody eye out next time, why don’t you?”

            “Sorry, I didn’t know that was you.”

            “Fell over.” Thomas could just make out the boy's silhouette as Newt rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm.          

            “What happened?” Frypan asked, sitting up on the other end of the truck bed.

            “I don’t know,” Thomas leaned back over the edge of the truck and his chest hollowed just slightly. 

            “Thomas?  I don’t like that look on your face.”  Fry’s voice got closer as the boy joined him by the edge and leaned over to look to the front as well.

            “What is it?” Newt asked.

            Thomas swallowed.  “The passage is blocked.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thomas' Decisions: You'll notice that in nearly every chapter there's some sort of decision that needs to be made from Thomas. I need him to get to the point where this comes naturally to him and Vince is starting to get him there. Despite the hesitance from Joe, he sticks with his gut and keeps them to a time limit. Getting Minho is his priority, and he can't waste any time. He knows how WCKD operates - and it's not on his schedule.
> 
> 2\. Newt's Leg: Of course I had to reference it getting worse, you know how much walking and running he's done in the last few weeks? Nothing detrimental, but it had to be pointed out because reasons.
> 
> 3\. The Sleep Scene: I had so much trouble describing this. Literally spent a half hour on one of these sentences. I finally got it out and just gave up trying to really portray the boys' sleeping positions. Have a diagram if you're really curious:  
> ........ O-|—< Thomas  
> >—|-O Newt
> 
> 4\. Thomas' Dream: Based off one of the last scenes in TST with Teresa, when she tells Thomas how her mother tore out her own eyes. Thomas isn't getting much sleep. He's got a lot of in mind in the daylight, it's only normal it would haunt him at night.
> 
> 5\. See? More Newt. No rioting please. :) 
> 
> 6\. Thomas vs Tommy: I have Newt call him Thomas quite a few times and Tommy a few others. I think there are distinct moments where he’d use one over the other. I’ll let you all make the distinction if you’d like, but there is reasoning behind each name selection in it’s part.
> 
> 7\. Thanks to Kath and Rachel for choosing the Alternative Title :]


	4. On Stones and Stumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Needs to Figure a Lot of Things Out Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning for a very brief description of injury. It's very brief and not detailed, but just in case.

 

            Thomas’ leg still hadn’t stopped bouncing on the spot where he stood chewing his lip, arms folded against his chest, and eyes glued to where Joe and Vince worked to climb the mound of stone and rock.  The pile of rubble reached about halfway up the cave wall on one side, and completely floor to ceiling on the other.

            The two finally reached the top of the lower half and Thomas watched as they braced themselves and pushed at the top rock.  Their grunts echoed in the cave and Thomas held his breath as they continued.  They re-shifted themselves and attempted once more.

            Thomas cursed himself.  This was on him: he made them go into this cave.  Now they were stuck, they were gonna have to turn around, they’d lose any time they thought they’d saved and they’d still had to walk that stupid narrow path around the cave, and all the while, WCKD is doing God knows what to Minho.

            “Thomas,” Jorge spoke up next to him, pulling him from his self-battering.  “I don’t think that-”

            His words were cut off by one last grunt and a sudden shift of movement and a crash somewhere on the opposite side of the rubble.

            In the glow from the headlights, Thomas could see Joe turn around to look back down at them, a smile curling up on his face.  “Looks like we’ve got a chance here.”

            “I take it back,” Jorge said.  “Let’s give it a shot.”

            There was a sudden clamor as everyone started moving forward, speaking over each other.

            “Hang on hang on hang on hang _on!_ ” Vince’s voice rang out and the movement stopped.

            “This is great, but these rocks are heavy,” Joe continued.  “I want at _least_ three of you – maybe four – to a stone. Don’t strain yourself.  Nobody’s good to us if they’re hurt.  If you can’t get one stone, move onto the next one.  Only work on this side of the cave.”  He emphasized this with a knock on a few of the rocks next to him on the lower half.  “It’s too dark in here to be out of the reach from the headlights.  Take your flashlights if you have them.  Remember: we just need enough room to get the trucks past.  We’re gonna work in three teams.  Vince, me, and Jorge.  Spread yourselves out by strength.  Now is not the time to act tougher than you are.”

            Vince nodded. “Speaking of which.  Joe, you take four.  No offense, but you could use the help.”

            Joe’s seriousness and order broke as he laughed, and Thomas was again reminded of how young Joe still was.  “None taken.  These lanky arms aren’t fooling anyone, trust me.”

            Vince pat him on the back before turning to the group again.  “Matt. Harriet.  You’re with me.”

            Thomas blinked into focus as Harriet and one of the immune boys stepped forward and started up the stones toward him.  Joe took a step to the left, shimmying his way over to the center of the pile.

            “Right,” Jorge nodded.  “Brenda. Thomas.”  Jorge nodded to the far end past Vince and closest to the lower part of the pile. 

            “Sure,” Newt laughed. “You take all the strong ones, Jorge.”

            Thomas glanced back as Fry, Newt and the other two immune kids began to climb their way toward Joe, and played the words over in his head.  He was fairly certain the shifting muscles beneath Newt’s sweater contradicted his statement.

            “Come on,” Brenda put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, pushing him forward.  “Faster we get this done, the faster we can get back into actual daylight.  Never thought I’d miss the sun this much.”

           

 

            Thomas braced a hand on one of the stones above his head, and stepped up onto a lower rock.  “Careful,” Jorge said from the side.  “The rocks are in here pretty deep, so they won’t shift too much now, but once we start prying them loose, you don’t want to be supporting all your weight on just one stone.  Make sure your legs are on different stones and your weight distributed evenly on both of them.”

            Thomas nodded, adjusting his stance.  He lifted his left leg to another stone, brought his right one up to a stone even with it and paused, balancing himself.  Reach, pull, step, balance. Repeat.  After a few more repetitions, Thomas found himself at the top of the pile with the two of them.  Thomas braced his weight evenly between his legs, like Jorge said, and leaned forward, hands on the stone in front of them.  Brenda’s hands joined his, side by side.  Jorge straddled the top of the stone pile, one leg on either side of the barricade.  “You two push, I’ll pull. Ready? On three. One, two.”

            Thomas pushed, but the stone barely budged.  His calves stretched, thighs burned, shoulders strained.  Without realizing it, his groans joined the chorus of the others’ all around him, echoing.

            “Come on, come on, come on,” Brenda’s voice came through clenched teeth.  Her whole body was practically pressed into the rock and Jorge continued to lean back, pulling.  Thomas took his hands back and slowly turned around, distributing his weight and feet correctly again and leaned his back against the stone, ignoring the press into his spine.  His eyes were screwed shut, teeth clenched, fists curled.  Suddenly, his body jolted backwards, Brenda moved forward, catching herself on the next rock, and Jorge let out a yell as he tossed the rock down.  Thomas watched as it bounced down the small hill of rubble and crashed to the floor, shattering into smaller pieces. 

            “Alright!” Jorge called out.

            “Nice,” Brenda breathed next to him, a smile forming.

            Thomas nodded. “Okay, okay we can do this.  Let’s go.”

            Thomas had no idea how long they worked through the rubble.  Flashlights were held between teeth and in pockets, headlights beamed toward them and shadows and silhouettes shifted in his peripherals.  Commands were called out, echoed against the walls.  Once in a while the commands were joined by a tumble of stone and rocks, a small breathy cheer, and then more groans.  Thomas stopped only briefly to pull his jacket off and toss it somewhere to the floor below him, next to a pile of other discarded clothing.  His shirt was sticking to his body, slick with sweat, his hair falling in short wet locks around his face.  Next to him, Brenda heaved and wiped her brow over and over, but never gave into the exhaustion.

            Thomas was pressing his shoulder into yet another stone when it happened.  There was a clatter of rock, gravel.  A cacophony of sound instantly.  The rock Thomas had been pushing gave way far too easily and he turned to see layers of the stone collapsing backward.

            “WATCH!” Jorge rolled over a stone to Thomas and Brenda’s side as the three began to slide down the shifting stones.  There were shouts from all over.  Thomas could barely make out the voices, let alone the words. Dust and rubble sprouted forward as the blockage continued to fall apart around them.  Thomas’ arm was instantly around Brenda as she slid past him, and he pulled her into him leaning backward, the two of them sliding down the cascading rock together.

            He felt the scrape of the cave floor on his back as they landed, his shirt scrunching up his spine below him. Before he had time to register his pain, he rolled over Brenda and threw his arms above his head while shifting his body over hers.  Another large stone crashed down next to them where he had been just a moment ago.  The sound slowly faded to a stop and was soon replaced with heavy breathing.  The dust and debris swirled around them, coughs echoing, and Thomas finally opened his eyes.

            “Brenda? Brenda!” Jorge’s voice came coughing through the ash.

            “I’m right here.”

            Thomas lifted himself from her and looked down to meet her eyes.

            “Thanks, Thomas.  I owe you one.”

            Thomas breathed out a small laugh.  “Yeah, next time I’m in a dark cave and need your help I’ll let you know.”

            “Is everyone alright?” Jorge called out, reaching a hand down to help Brenda stand.  Thomas grasped his other hand and pulled himself up.

            “Over here!”  Vince’s voice rang out somewhere on the other side. 

            Thomas finally turned and got a look at the scene.  The blockage had dispersed, the rocks scattered across the tunnel, leaving a large opening on one half of it.  Slowly, bodies started to stand, though Thomas couldn’t see enough through the grit to make out who was who.  Groans and coughs continued to echo around him.  Behind the other half where the blockage was still piled a fair amount, Vince waved them over.

            “Thomas!”

            His heart jumped at the height in Frypan’s voice.

            “Thomas get over here! Hurry!”

            His legs moved before he made the conscious decision to run.  He hurdled a pile of broken stone, skidded on another loose piece, caught himself, and stumbled over more until he was next to the group.

            Vince, Fry and Matt were pushing a large stone, nearly the size of Thomas himself.  He threw his body forward as Jorge ran over and pushed from behind him.  A second later the stone rolled, and revealed Joe and Newt buried in a pile of dust and broken rock.

            “Newt. _Newt_!”

            “Joe?” Harriet slid into view on her knees from another direction. 

            Thomas could barely focus on the scene in front of him.  He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, his throat closing up.  Vince knelt down next to the two and Thomas jumped over another stone to run to the other side.

            Newt was on the ground beneath Joe, breath coming in gasps. 

            “Newt, you alright?”  Thomas crouched and looked down at him, his hands were suddenly on Newt’s upside down face.

            “Hiya, Tommy,” the boy smiled faintly up at him.

            Thomas’ shoulders deflated in an abrupt exhale.  “Jesus Christ.”

            “Not quite.”

            “Joe, you okay?” Thomas looked past Newt’s chest to where Vince and Harriet were slowly moving Joe off of Newt.  Joe’s voice called out in pain, and Thomas’ eyes snagged on his leg a moment before he turned his face away.  He felt the bile rise in his mouth and swallowed it down, burning his throat. 

            “Frypan, get a medpack!” Vince called.

            Thomas heard, rather than saw, Frypan run off toward the trucks.

            “Joe, can you hear us fine?”

            Thomas barely registered the continued exchange.  His focus was instantly back on Newt where the boy lifted an arm, covering his face with his hand, fingers brushing over Thomas’ where they were still on him.

            “Newt, you okay?”

            “Tell me it’s not broken.”

            “What?”  Thomas’ eyes roved over Newt’s body, wondering how on earth anything could possibly be more broken than the way the boy’s voice came out.

            “Joe’s leg, Thomas.  Tell me he’s okay.”

            Thomas looked at Newt, wondering how the boy could be more concerned with anyone else right now while he himself was lying on the floor – but then, Thomas supposed that was nothing new.

            He looked over to Joe again.  Vince and Harriet were able to prop the young man up against the stone wall and Vince worked to cut open the leg of his jeans with a pocket knife.  Blood and dirt covered most of his leg, and when Thomas caught the shape of a bone beneath scraped skin that definitely should not be in that spot that it was, he immediately looked back down to Newt. 

            Newt’s eyes were glass, shimmering in the light of someone’s flashlight, staring back at Thomas.

            Thomas swallowed the truth, and nodded down to him.  “He’s fine, Newt.”

            The boy turned his head, but Thomas tightened his grip, keeping Newt’s focus on him.  “He’s sitting up.  He’s gonna be fine.  Let’s get you to the truck.  Can you stand?”

            Newt swallowed and Thomas felt the slightest of nods from between his hands.

            “Okay, okay.  Slowly.  Move with me.”  Thomas slid to the side and lifted Newt’s arm as he spoke.  He bent low over him as he instructed. “Put your arm around my shoulders.”

            “I’ll get the other side,” one of the immune boys hopped over Newt, but Thomas shot a hand out.

            “Don’t touch him!”

            The boy froze instantly, looking at Thomas.

            “Don’t touch him.  I’ve got him.  Go help the others.”

            “Are you sure?  I can get his other ar-.”

            “No.”  Thomas focused back down to where Newt rested on the ground below him.  “Can you sit up for me?”

            Something was there in the look that Newt gave Thomas now, but Thomas couldn’t place it.  He would figure that out later.  For now, his priority was getting Newt to the truck.

            Newt moved his right arm to prop himself up and Thomas’ eyes snagged on blossomed blood on the sleeve of the shirt.  He focused again where the boy now sat up a few inches from him and wrapped an arm around Newt’s back and pulled him closer toward him.  He felt Newt’s arm tighten around his neck a bit as he pulled himself up, a groan coming through clenched teeth.

            “It’s okay, Newt.  Easy.”

            The boy pressed into him for a brief moment until his arm loosened and he dropped back down a few inches.

            “Tommy, I need someone else on this side. My arm. I can’t…”  Newt spoke through clenched teeth, shallow breaths, and looked up to where the immune boy stood.  “Matt, please?”

            “Wait.”  Thomas held out a hand again.

            “Thomas,” Newt’s voice was low as he looked at him, that odd look still on his face.  “You can’t carry me on your own.  Just let him help.”

            Thomas wanted to explain that he didn’t know this kid well enough.  Not that he would necessarily do anything wrong, but what if he gripped Newt too hard? What if he moved him too fast?  What if he aggravated his injury?  He swallowed the questions, because at the end of everything, Newt was right: Thomas probably couldn’t carry him alone.  He looked up to the boy.  “Go easy, we move slow.”

            “Yeah, man.  I got it.”

            Thomas felt his mouth twitch at the way the boy spit the words out, but let it go.  Fry was helping attach a splint to Joe’s leg and Brenda was tending to one of the other boys that must have fallen.  He didn’t have another option that he trusted any better than this kid. 

            “On three. Newt, are you able to push up with your legs a bit?”

            “Yeah, they’re okay, I think.  It’s mostly my back.”

            Thomas tried not to focus on how shallow Newt’s voice sounded, how thin his breathing was.  “Let’s go.  One, two.” Thomas pushed up from his legs, one arm around Newt’s back, the other gripping his side.  He let Newt balance himself between the two of them before they started to slowly walk toward the other end where the rubble was easier to climb over and walk through. 

            “Easy, Matt.”

            “I’m barely moving.”

            Thomas barely registered the boy’s response, too focused on the ground in front of them and the truck in the distance.  With each step, Thomas could feel the falter of Newt’s walk, the way he leaned into Thomas more, the quick half steps from his right leg to his left.  “You’re doing great, Newt.  Almost there.”

            “Bloody hell, Tommy.  I don’t need a narration of the walk.”

            Thomas smiled as Newt’s laugh came out on a breath right next to his ear.  He turned slightly to glance at him as he spoke, “just trying to be encouraging.”

            “You’re being annoying.”

            “I’m being caring.” He laughed along with Newt as they skirted another stone.  Newt’s hand squeezed Thomas’ shoulder briefly, and Thomas couldn’t tell if it was from pain or in response to his comment about caring.  He decided there would be time to figure that out later.

 

***

 

            Thomas stood in the circle, but continued to glance back toward Vince’s truck where Newt was lying across the backseat against the door, his arm now fully bandaged by Harriet.  Luckily, there hadn’t been much injury, mostly his breath had been shot out of him at the impact, his body aching- but healing.

            “Brenda can cover a good amount of the road, she knows the truck decent enough to get us through.”  Jorge’s voice brought Thomas’ focus back to attention.

            “Alright.” Vince nodded.  “That puts you in Joe’s truck.”

            “I’ll hop in with you,” Thomas nodded to Vince.

            “Yeah, I figured as much.  That’s fine. Harriet will stay with you and Joe, Jorge.  Bernard and the others will stay with Brenda.  Three of them can sit in the truck bed.”

            Vince continued talking, But Thomas barely heard a word.  He looked back toward Vince’s truck again, he could just make out the silhouette of Newt against the back window, illuminated by Jorge’s headlights.  He found himself thinking about that odd look on Newt’s face when Thomas told that kid to back up.  Matt? Mike? Why did Newt trust him? What if he wasn’t strong enough to lift Newt?  The kid didn’t even know about Newt’s leg, did he? He could’ve-

            “Thomas?”

            “Hmm?” He turned back to Vince.

            A muscle feathered in Vince’s jaw.  “Thomas, why don’t you head back to the truck, make sure your friend is ready to go?  We’ll round everyone up and get them set.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas was already walking toward the truck as he spoke.  “Sure.”

            He pulled the passenger door open and stepped inside, looking into the backseat.  “Newt?  You good?”

            “Yeah, terrific,” he laughed.

            Thomas knelt on the passenger seat and leaned on the headrest to look back at him. His eyes scanned the small cut on his jaw, beneath the sarcastic smile.  The bandage on his shoulder beneath the freshly cut sleeve of the shirt, the larger bandage wrapped tightly along his forearm. “How is it?”

            Newt lifted his arm and eyed the bandage.  “Stings like a Griever.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Like you’d know.”

            Newt’s eyes shifted and met Thomas’.  “Hmm, that’s your department, yeah?”

            “I guess.”

            Newt dropped his arm and looked out the back window, squinting in the headlights.  “How’s Joe?”

            “He’ll be okay. Jorge is gonna drive his truck.  Brenda’s gonna drive Jorge’s.  Or something like that.”

            Newt looked back at him, brows raised. “Brenda is gonna drive Bertha?”

            Thomas laughed.  “I guess.”

            “I can see that, actually.”

            “I guess.”

            Newt sighed.  “Do you know any other responses, Tommy?”

            Thomas smirked at him, “I guess.”

            “If my arm didn’t sting so bloody much, I’d be reaching over to hit you about now.”

            “Lucky me.  Look at those muscles,” he laughed back at him.

            “Good that,” Newt turned to look at his bare arm, and then the other one, still covered.  “Least Harriet could’ve done was cut both sleeves.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Minho would be having a field day right now.”

            “Remind me to change my shirt before we see him.”

            Thomas laughed, and then suddenly he was moving.  He didn’t know when or why, but with one leg kneeling on the seat, his other leg stepped over the center console to the floor of the backseat, and he ducked low against the ceiling.  He reached his hands over to a small hole in the shoulder of Newt’s shirt, and pulled.

            “Bloody hell, Tommy!”  The words were far too close to his ear for the volume that Newt put behind them.  He could feel his goddamned breath on his cheek.

            Thomas pulled at the cloth again and, in a quick ripping sound, the hole expanded and Thomas was able to pull the sleeve apart.  He let the cloth fall down to Newt’s forearm, bunching around his wrist. “There, now you look like a real shank.”

            Newt turned his head from his now-bare shoulder to look at Thomas, and Thomas felt something tighten in his throat. 

            The driver side door opened and Thomas straightened, instantly regretting it as his head banged on the ceiling of the truck.  Ignoring Newt’s snicker, he pushed himself back over the center console and fell back into the passenger seat awkwardly, trying to detangle one leg from the seatbelt and the other from the backseat.

            Vince pulled himself into the truck, gave him a quick once over as he finally righted himself, and pulled the door shut.  “Alright, boys.  We ready?  Newt, you doing okay back there?”

            “Right and cheery.”

            Thomas ignored the laughter in the boy’s words and cleared his throat.  “Let’s go.”

            There was a small pause, and Thomas finally turned to see Vince looking at him. 

            “Not right now, Vince.” He’d have enough time later to feel guilty for dragging everyone into this tunnel, for Joe’s leg, for Newt.

            Vince nodded silently and adjusted the rearview mirror and shifted the truck in drive.  “Seatbelt, Thomas.  Don’t want any more accidents, and this is gonna get bumpy.”

            Thomas pulled the seatbelt across his body.  He looked over his shoulder once more to eye the seatbelts strapped awkwardly around Newt’s sideways position.

            “I’m fine, Thomas, you’re gonna break your neck if you keep looking back here every three minutes to check on me.”

            “Who said I’m checking on you?  Maybe I just wanna make sure your arm isn’t bleeding all over my bag,” Thomas grinned before turning back to the front.

            “Right,” Newt laughed.  “The arm with the muscles, yeah?”

            Thomas nearly choked.

            “Alright boys, put the flirting on the back burner.  Time to focus.”

            Thomas looked at Vince and, for a moment, couldn’t tell if Vince _actually_ thought they were flirting.  Of course he didn’t, right?  Obviously, they were kidding.  Newt knew it was a joke, right?  He didn’t actually believe Thomas thought about his arms?  Sure, he’d noticed them, but everyone probably did.  He noticed Fry’s and Brenda’s muscles, too.  Besides, Newt made a comment about _his_ arms a few hours ago, didn’t he? Vince didn’t know what he was talking about.

            Thomas nearly pulled a muscle restraining himself from turning to look at Newt’s reaction.  He knew Vince was crazy, too. Right?

            His focus came back as the truck revved and drove over the first small pile of rubble, jostling the group back and forth.  He heard a sharp intake of breath from the backseat and spun round.  “Newt?”

            “Yeah,” Newt leaned forward, rubbing the back of his head with his good arm, the torn sleeve still bunched around his forearm.  “Yep, I’m good!” He called over the shifting truck.

            “Hold tight, another pile!” Vince called.  A second later, Vince’s hand grabbed Thomas’ shoulder and pushed him against the seat.  “Sit normal, Thomas. You’re no good if you smash your head on the headrest.  Now hold tight.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw but did as he was told.  He braced one hand on the door and another on the dashboard as the truck revved briefly and shot up and over a pile of rocks.  They crashed back down onto the floor and the back wheels followed with another bump and crash.

            “What I wouldn’t do for some of Gally’s brew after this.”

            Thomas smiled as Newt’s laughter worked through the noise of the truck and into Thomas’ head, and he was yet again astounded by Newt’s ability to take any situation and come out of it lighthearted.

            Yeah, Vince was definitely crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Collapse: This was always planned because Thomas needed to see his own fears come to life. This seems to be a recurring theme for him as it is, and I felt I wanted to add to it. He had to make a decision, he did, consequences came. This will be touched on again later. I also mostly wanted this to show a lot of how the characters work as a group. Joe sort of takes on a leadership role at the beginning here, and after the collapse, everyone sort of acts on default. Every background action mentioned is on purpose and has a reason behind it. When I write Thomas' story, I'm also writing Joe's, Harriet's, Frypan's, Matt's, etc. and hopefully it will all come together (eventually) as gracefully as it does in my head. But, if you like hints and foreshadowing, just keep in mind that everything has a purpose.
> 
> 2\. Thomas' Awkwardness: The boy just went through a traumatic experience, obviously he's not thinking straig- *ahem* er, clearly.
> 
> 3\. Thanks to Rachel and Amanda for choosing the alternative title :]
> 
>  
> 
> All the notes for tonight's chapter. The notes will likely be getting shorter as the story begins to unfold. Can't explain/give too many things away. But I do enjoy notes. I always love reading other writers' thought processes, so I can't help but share mine. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and thank you so so so much to everyone who's already left kudos and comments! You guys keep me writing. :)


	5. On Reasoning and Reversing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt, Your Panicky Side is Showing

 

 

            Thomas couldn’t help the relief that passed over him as they left the tunnels, the darkness, the entirety of that moment.  The sunlight was warm and welcoming as he squinted across the mountains, the wide expanse vast around them for miles: red craggy stone and sanded rocky trails leading the way.  He was just about able to ignore the stings on his back where he leaned back into the seat and the ache in his shoulder where the seatbelt pressed into him. 

            The sun continued to pass overhead while the trucks rolled on, and Thomas lowered the window to let the breeze cool them down, fill their lungs.  He allowed himself a small glance over his shoulder to see Newt leaning back against the car door, eyes closed against the wind from Vince’s window.  Thomas felt at ease, even while his worries fought their way from the back of his mind.  He continued to blink them back for now, just letting himself enjoy this moment.

            They were still ahead of schedule.

            They were going to get Minho back.

 

            They were slowing to a stop a few hours later.

 

            “Gotta refuel.  Cars and ourselves,” Vince answered before Thomas could ask, sliding out of the seat.

            “Sure,” Newt groaned from the backseat.  “Could use a stretch anyway.”

            Thomas slid out of the passenger seat, swiping his small sheathed dagger from the glove compartment and sliding it into the back of his jeans. Old habits died hard. He walked around the back of the truck, glancing around as others started shuffling around, grateful to stretch their legs.  He pulled open the back door, and immediately darted forwards to catch Newt, remembering too late that he’d been leaning against it.      

            “Oi! Warn a boy!”

            “Sorry, I forgot you were sitting this way.”

            Thomas stood, arms linked underneath Newt’s from behind, holding him up from where he sat sideways across the backseat.  Thomas could see the bits of dust and rubble still lost in Newt’s hair.  Somewhere beneath the sweat and rusted scent of dried blood, there was a hint of moss and damp earth.

            “Tommy?”  Newt’s voice came small.

            “Yeah?”

            “You wanna, erm, move so I can get out?”

            “Right, yeah, of course.”  Thomas blinked himself back to focus.  He stepped backward and slowly helped Newt turn in his seat.  He let Newt link his good arm around Thomas’ shoulder as he shuffled out of the truck onto one of his legs, the other slowly lowering down. 

            His arm dropped from around Thomas’ neck as he closed the door.  “Thanks.”

            “Yeah, of course.”  Thomas ignored the way the breeze felt extra cool along his neck now.  Instead, his eyes dropped to Newt’s legs as they walked toward the wall of the mountain, where everyone seemed to be congregating in the shade.  “Hey Newt?”

            “Mm?”

            “What, uh…” Thomas turned the question over and over in his head until Newt glanced up at him, squinting.  The sunlight reflected colors in his eyes Thomas had never seen before, streaks of gold in his hair.  Some people shouldn’t be kept in dark caves. 

            “Spit it out, Tommy.”

            “Your leg,” Thomas said abruptly, snapping his gaze back down to it. _Great,_ he thought, _all that time figuring out how to phrase a damned question and that’s how it comes out._ “What happened to-?”

            “Oh, this?” Newt shook his leg out in front of him, carelessly.  “Just gets achey sometimes, that’s all. It was fine in the fall. Come on,” he seemed to pick up his pace toward the group.  “I’m starving.”

            Thomas bit down on his tongue, dropping the matter as Jorge tossed a sandwich to him.

 

            They ate stale bread and dried bits of salted meat in the shade of the mountain wall as the sun made its way to the other side of it.  Thomas tried not to think of how low their stock of food was slowly becoming.  Vince and one of the immune boys filled the cars with the fuel they were able to scrounge up from the camp before they’d left, but it was clear they’d have to address that issue soon as well.  The cars would only run so far on the little gas they had left.  Thomas felt his heart’s pace quicken a bit as he glanced between the three trucks.

            “What’s going on, Tommy? I see wheels spinning.”

            He looked over at Newt, leaning back on the wall next to him. 

            “Nothing, just thinking.”

            “Yes, I’ve noticed,” he laughed.  “Which is why I asked.”

            Thomas let a small laugh out.  “Just worried about how we’re going to make this work after we run out of fuel.”

            “Mhm. And what else?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Come on, Tommy.  I told you I see wheels spinning.  And they’re spinning too fast for you to just be snagged on the trucks.  What’s going on?”

            Thomas paused a moment.  He was far past being surprised at Newt’s ability to know when he was troubled.  It was just how they worked now.

            “I’m just worried about figuring out our next step.”

            “What, going down the mountain, you mean?”

            “Yeah, I guess.  And whatever comes after that.”

            He felt Newt’s knee brush against his as the boy sat forward now, leaning enough to look at Thomas directly now.  “You know that cave in wasn’t your fault, right?”

            “I knew it was a possibility and I still dragged us in there, Newt.  If I hadn’t made that decision you...” he caught the words in his throat, kept them there.

            “I what?”

            Thomas watched his hands in silence as Newt continued.

            “I wouldn’t have fallen?  I wouldn’t have single-handedly caused a disaster?” Newt laughed, but Thomas heard something behind it and immediately caught his gaze again.

            “Newt, you didn’t-,”

            “I did, Tommy,” Newt said, far too casually.  He shifted his posture again, speaking as if he was discussing something simple as the sandwiches in their hands.  Thomas knew that voice, that calmness.  Newt was only ever collected when he was shaking inside, when he was thinking too much and too fast.  When he was trying not to make others worry about him.  “Joe told us a million times to balance our weight between both of our legs.”  He shrugged, “not so easy for me.”

            Thomas kept his eyes trained on Newt’s, not looking where he fidgeted with his hands, as if trying to focus on anything except his leg.  Thomas fought the urge to ask again, to bring it up.

            “That doesn’t mean you caused it, Newt.”

            “It does, Tommy,” he laughed.  “It does.  I was leaning too far to the left, the rock I was on came loose below me and I fell.  Joe tried to catch me, of course, and then _he_ fell and-,” his voice snagged.  “Now _his_ leg…”

            “Newt, that’s not your fault.”

            “It’s more mine than yours,” Newt looked at him directly now, a hardness in his eyes.  “Remember that.  Keep making the decisions you need to, Thomas.  Things are going to happen, whatever you decide.”

            “Water?” A voice asked somewhere near them.

            It pulled Thomas from his focus on Newt and when he looked up, and his sight snagged on the blue eyes above him before everything came back into focus.  “What?”

            “Do you want water?” The immune boy asked again, tilting the bottle back and forth in front of Thomas.  “We had some extra canteens in Joe’s truck.”

            “I’m okay, thanks.”  Thomas dropped his eyes away from the boy’s and down to his sandwich again, letting his heart start beating again, pushing memories further back in his mind.

            “I’ll take one, Bernard,” Newt said next to him, something darkened in his voice.

            The boy finally walked away after a moment, and Thomas took a breath.

            He heard Newt sigh next to him, almost exasperated.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Newt nodded at him.  “Wanna check on Joe.”

            “Sure.”  Thomas barely looked up as Newt walked away.  All he could see was the slight shake in his hands and he flexed his fingers, wiped the sweat on the sides of his jeans.  His knuckles brushed against something cold, and he looked over to see the canteen Newt left behind for him.

            He looked back up toward Joe’s truck, where Joe was still propped up in the backseat, pretty similar to how Newt had been.  Thomas watched as Newt knocked on the window and waited for it to lower, leaning in to talk to Joe as the guy angled himself to face Newt as much as he could. Thomas grabbed the canteen and stood up.

            “Thomas!”  
  
            He stopped and turned to where Brenda sat on the floor a few feet away, leaning back against the wall.  She patted the spot next to her.

            With one glance back toward Newt and Joe, Thomas turned to walk over.

            “Hey, how’re you doing?”  He dropped down to sit next to her.

            She shrugged, wiping some crumbs from the corner of her mouth.  “A lot better than I was.”

            Thomas let a small smile out.  “Good to hear.”

            “You seem preoccupied.”

            Thomas tore his eyes away from Joe’s truck to look back at Brenda.  There was a cut on her jaw where a fragment of rock must have struck her, and Thomas bit down on his apology for not being able to shield her completely.  “No, just… I’m just tired.”

            “Mhm.”

            “How’s your leg?”

            Brenda put the last bit of sandwich in her mouth and brushed her hands together to rid the crumbs before rolling the leg of her pants up.

            A faint scar dotted her calf, still a deep red with blue and yellow bruises blossoming from it.  “It’s closed up.  Mary cleaned out what she could.  Doesn’t hurt much.  Aches once in a while if there’s pressure on the area, but other than that, it’s good.”

            Thomas nodded as she rolled the cloth down again. 

            “Thanks again, Tom.”

            “Thomas.”  The correction was out of his mouth before he realized it. He caught the look Brenda gave him: brows raised, questioning.  “Sorry, I just… I go by Thomas.”

            “Sure,” she nodded, but her face still questioned him.

            Thomas laced his hands together, leaning his elbows on his knees.  Scenes from his nightmare came back to his memory.  In the hectic last few hours, he’d nearly forgotten about it.  Hadn’t thought about her.  It was almost…relieving.  “She, uh… she used to call me Tom.”

            “That Teresa girl?”

            “Yeah.”

            Thomas could feel Brenda’s stare on him.  He moved his focus off to the side by Vince’s truck, where he was currently teaching Frypan how to shift gears.  The truck inched slowly forward and backward.

            A few inches forward.

            More inches backward. 

            “So, she was working for them the entire time?”

            Brenda’s voice rocked Thomas’ focus back.  “I don’t know.”

            “Sorry, don’t mean to pry.”  Brenda stretched her legs forward ahead of her.

            “You’re not.”

            “You wanna talk about her?”

            “Not really, no.” Thomas shook his head before turning to look at Brenda now.  “But I think I should.”

            “Might help,” she shrugged.

            Thomas exhaled, flicking his gaze to the others again, but not really focused on them.  All he could see now was blue eyes, wavy black hair, freckles dotted across pale skin.  “I trusted her, you know?  I really thought…” He swallowed.  Paused.

            Brenda didn’t break the interruption.

            He continued.

            “I know I worked for WCKD, once upon some other life.  And I know she did, too.  But I can’t understand how, or why.  Not after what I saw in that facility.”

            “The kids being drained?”

            Thomas looked at her, brow raised.

            “I overheard that Aris kid telling Harriet and their other friend when you guys arrived.”

            “Yeah, it was awful.”

            “Sounds like it.”

            “I just don’t understand how they think what they’re doing is okay.  How I once thought it was okay.”  Thomas felt his throat closing over the words, ashamed of how he sounded.

            He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to Brenda as she spoke.  “Hey, it’s okay.  Doesn’t matter. You were so young then.  What were you, ten? Eleven?  You had no idea what was right and wrong.   What matters is how you are now, and you know it’s wrong.”

            “Yeah, so why can’t she see it?”

            “Man, fuck her.  She chose her path.  Now you can choose yours, and now you know it’s not the same as hers.  You know what kind of person she is now.”

            “That’s the thing, I’m not sure I do.”

            Brenda sighed, dropping her hand and looking out across the path.  “Thomas, look.  I don’t know what things were like between the two of you, but if I were you? I’d try to see the situation for what it is.  You saved her, broke her out of WCKD’s facility, brought her to the Right Arm, brought all of your friends to safety, and despite _all_ of that, she decided to waste your efforts, call WCKD, and get you all sent right back.  That’s not someone you should spend your time worrying over.”

            Thomas let out a long exhale.  He knew Brenda was right, but it was easier said than done.  His heart ached at the thought of Teresa still, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

            “Now, these people?” she continued, gesturing to where Harriet was helping one of the kids with assembling a shotgun, to where Frypan was performing a pretty decent U-turn in Vince’s truck, to where Jorge was helping another that Matt kid do something with wires, to Newt laughing at something.  “These people moved out and followed you because they know you’re doing the right thing.  _They’re_ who you should spend your time focused on.  Not her.”

            Thomas let out a smaller breath now.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I just sometimes wor-.”

            Thomas’ words were cut off by a loud crunch echoing around them, several rocks and dust swirling, and a rumble behind him from the cave wall.  The two of them jumped up, Thomas reaching out to grab Brenda’s arm and push her behind him. His heart jumped in his throat and his eyes snagged on Newt where he ducked low, grabbing onto the truck he stood next to.  Thomas looked off to the left where Vince and the others were covering their mouths and eyes, coughing.      

            The dust and rubble cleared to reveal Vince’s truck backed up against the cave wall.  “Sorry, y’all! That was my bad!”  Fry’s voice came through before he appeared, waving dust from the air around him.  “Still getting the hang of this reversing thing.”

 

           

***

  


            The second hour into their break, the sun began to set further out and Thomas watched as Harriet approached him and Frypan, Medkit in hand.  He squinted up to her where she stood.

            “Hey, anyone treat your cuts yet?”

            “What?”

            She gestured to his face.  “You’ve got cuts all over you.”

            Thomas awkwardly put a hand to his face.

            Harriet knelt down next to him and pulled open the small box of supplies.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head.  “Did you check everyone else?”

            “Yeah, haven’t seen Josh yet, but Bernard said he’s still sleeping in the truck.  I’ll get him in a bit.”  She poured something clear on a bit of cloth and lifted it to Thomas’ forehead.

            He felt the cold of it first and then the sudden heat of the sting before he flinched back and pushed her hand away. 

            “Hey, I didn’t say it was gonna feel great, but you’ve gotta clean that out.  It’s gonna get infected.”

            “It’s fine.”

            Harriet dropped her hands between her knees. “Seriously? What the hell did you guys do in your Maze? Did you just leave your cuts open to the dirt and germs and hope for the best?”

            Thomas looked up at her.  “Man, what’s your problem?”

            “My problem?” Harriet spoke over Frypan’s plead for civility.  “I don’t have a problem, _man_.”

            “Really? Because you’ve been snapping at everyone ever since we moved out from camp.  If you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to.”

            “Are you kidding me right now? If I didn’t want to come?” Harriet tossed the cloth into the box and looked at him again.  “If I remember correctly, you wanted me on your team.  And in case you forgot, _man_ , you’re not the only one here who lost people.  WCKD took two of my friends.  They took-,” her words cut off, replaced with a quick exhale through her nose.  “Forget it.  Get infected.”

            Harriet stood, grabbed the medkit box and stormed off.  Thomas watched her leave before shifting his focus to where Newt was watching him from his conversation with Bernard.

            “I told you, Thomas.  She scares me.”

            “She’s just acting out, Fry.”

            “Whatever you say.”

            Thomas stood up as Newt approached them.  He turned back toward Harriet before looking at Thomas.  “What was that about?”

            “She got mad because I wouldn’t let her clean my face, and I called her out on her attitude.”

            Newt furrowed his brow at him and, again, Thomas saw a flash of something odd in his stare.  “You should clean it, Thomas.  You don’t want to be stuck with a dumb scar on your face,” he gestured to his cheek, below his left eye.  There was a fading scar there that he’d gotten when… well, Thomas couldn’t remember when.  He’d had it for weeks now at least.

            “I’ll be fine.”

            “Thomas,” Newt’s voice shot out a bit louder than usual, “clean the shucking cut and apologize.”  He leaned down on Fry’s shoulder and sat next to him.  “Go on,” he gestured off toward where Harriet walked off.

            Thomas shook his head.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”  He walked off to the sound of Frypan’s long exhale, punctuated by a “slim it, Fry.”

 

            “Hey, Harriet?”  His voice came out smaller than he’d have liked.

            “Yeah, man?”  She kept her eyes down on the dagger she was polishing.

            He bit down on her ironic tone.  “Do you have any more of that…whatever it was you were using for the cuts?”

            She dropped her hands to her lap and looked up at him.  “The alcohol?  A bit left, yeah.”

            Thomas shifted on his feet.  “Do you mind if I use some?”

            She eyed him for a moment before reaching behind her and opening the Medkit.  She pulled a cloth and small bottle from it and held it up to him.  “I take it you’re not gonna want me to do it.  Maybe one of your friends can help. You know, since you still have some here.”

            Thomas took the blow with the items.  “Thanks.”  With nothing more to add, and with Harriet focused back on her dagger, Thomas stepped around her and further off to the side away from the group.  He had to take care of other needs anyway.  
  


            He used the alcohol to kill any germs remaining on his hands, the burn alerting him of several tiny cuts he had no idea he even had.  Then, using one of his hands to run his fingers across his forehead to feel for the cut, he used the other to dab the damp cloth on his skin, a sharp intake of breath coming involuntarily at the sting.

            After practically numbing his forehead, he pulled his shirt off and looked down to his chest. There was a small scrape along his ribs from sliding down the rocks and as he traced it around, he could feel multiple scrapes on his back as well.  He worked to clean them as best he could before capping the alcohol and pulling his shirt back on. 

            The smell of the alcohol masked most of the sweat, but he would have to find a solution for his shirt soon.  He’d been in the same one since they’d left camp.  He looked up to the darkening sky and realized the sun was just about setting down below the horizon.  He cricked his neck and started walking back toward camp under the oranges and reds of the sky.

 

           

            “Thomas, what the hell?”

            His head snapped up at Newt’s voice and he stilled as Newt stormed toward him, Frypan jogging up behind him. 

            “What?”  Thomas barely got the question out before both of Newt’s hands were pushing him at the shoulders.  He dropped the medkit in the backward stumble.  “Newt, what?”

            “Shit, Thomas.”  The boy ran a hand through his hair, breath heavy.

            “Newt,” Fry said, catching up to the two, grabbing the medkit from the floor. 

            “What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked, turning to Fry.

            Fry had a look of exasperation on his face, but a hint of relief in his voice as he spoke. “Thomas where were you, man?”

            “I just went off to take care of things and wash my cu-”

            “You just went off!” Newt snapped back at him.  “Went off on your own.”  He gestured off to the expanse of mountain around them.  “Went for a little walk.”

            “Newt,” Fry lifted a hand to Newt’s shoulder, but the boy swatted him away before resting his hands on his hips, breath coming heavy like he’d just ran a mile.

            “Did I miss something?” Thomas looked between the two.

            “Did you miss-?” Newt turned to Fry.  “He wants to know if he missed something.”

            “Newt, take a walk.”

            “Thomas, you can’t just go wandering off on your own like that!” Newt ignored Fry, eyes burning into Thomas’.

            “I didn’t wander off, I walked to the other side of the trucks and ducked behind a wall,” Thomas pointed to the far side.

            “Without telling anyone?  I nearly bit Harriet’s head off asking where she sent you!”

            “Harriet?”

            “She was the last one who saw you!”

            “Newt, what is going on?”  Thomas stepped forward, putting his hands on Newt’s shoulders. 

            The boy exhaled, eyes fluttering closed.  Thomas could practically feel the tension slowly seeping out of him. 

            “Hey,” he attempted, quietly.

            Newt looked at him now.

            “Breathe, I’m right here.”

            Newt just nodded.  “Sorry for yelling, Tommy.  Just, _tell_ someone next time.”

            Thomas offered a small smile.  “Of course, Newt.  Next time I’ll leave you a detailed letter about how I really need to pee, and where I intend to do it.”

            “Sod off,” Newt knocked one of his hands off his shoulder, but his laugh betrayed his anger.

            Thomas snaked his other arm around the boy’s shoulder, turning him so they could walk back toward the group.  “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.  In detail.”

            “Oh spare me your snark.”

            Thomas barked a laugh out, something in his chest unknotting at the relief on Newt’s face.

 

 

            “Thomas!”  Vince’s called out to him from the other side of the trucks.

            “That doesn’t sound too good,” Thomas muttered, dropping his arm from Newt’s shoulders.

            “What’s going on?”

            “I don’t know,” he shook his head at Newt and started making his way toward Vince.  It only took half a second for him to hear the uneven gait behind him, following.

            “Vince, what’s wrong?”  Thomas stepped around the truck to Vince’s side by the road’s edge.

            Vince’s eyes shifted behind Thomas as Newt stepped up to join them.

            “Vince, what’s wrong?” Thomas repeated.

            Vince glanced between the two again before pointing across the cavern and down to the route below.

            Thomas and Newt leaned forward to peer down, and Thomas immediately caught sight of movement.  Two people were headed up the pathway, a large bundle being pulled behind them, leaving a trail in the sand. 

            “Who are they?” Newt asked.

            “Can’t be sure, but I think it’s about time to wrap this rest stop up.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Newt, get everyone packing up.  Have Fry help you.”

            “Of course.”

            Thomas’ eyes followed him as he jogged toward the group, waving Fry over.  He turned back to the pair of strangers, slowly advancing up the path.  “Let’s go see who they are.”

            “You wanna go talk to them?” Vince asked.

            “Yeah.  We should find out where they’re coming from.  If they’re alone or-,”

            “-or dangerous?”

            Thomas swallowed, glancing up to Vince.  “At the very least, it’ll buy everyone time to pack up the trucks.”

            Vince just nodded slowly.  “Let’s go.  There’s a path over on the far side there.”

            Thomas reached behind him, felt the small dagger still nestled in the back of his jeans, and gave one glance back toward Newt across the camp.

            Newt’s eyes shifted from the dagger to Thomas’ face, a warning in his eyes.  Thomas only gave a small nod of encouragement in his direction before Newt yanked a bag up from the floor and turned away.

            “Thomas.”

            He turned back to where Vince waited, a few feet away.  “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Meet Bernard! Immune boy #2! Just hanging out, handing out water. What a guy. (Thanks, Rachel!)
> 
> 2\. I clearly have an Thing about bad legs. This is never going to stop lmao I'm so sorry you're gonna be flooded with it.
> 
> 3\. I'm such a wreck for Brenda and Thomas being super platonic bffs. Take it or leave it. 
> 
> 4\. Check it out - Fry's getting driving lessons. That's cool. Maybe he'll need to know how to drive a truck at some point in his future. ((:
> 
> 5\. Thomas still cares about Teresa, okaY? Fight me.
> 
> 6\. Meet Josh - Immune boy #3. Takin' naps and doing his thing. Yay everyone has names!!! (Thanks, Eleanor!)
> 
> 7\. Don't be mad at Thomas. He's got a lot on his mind and so does Harriet. This tension won't last long though, promise. Newt will make sure of it.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Sorry my notes are a mess. Also, thanks to Green, Owen, Badland and Red for helping choose the Alternative Chapter Title :]


	6. On Strangers and Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Find the Good Bits, Thomas

           

            The descent was steeper than it looked and Thomas worked to keep himself steady behind Vince.  His boots gave way once in a while as he slid forward on some loose sand, but for the most part, he was able to stay upright.

            The two strangers stopped walking when they noticed Thomas and Vince, and began whispering between themselves.  Thomas felt the handle of the knife press into his lower back, the thick case that wrapped around the blade tucked close to him.  He stretched his hand, moved his fingers, worked to keep his muscles loose.

            “Hey!” Vince called down to the pair as he descended the last stretch of path toward them.

            Thomas followed him down until he was next to him, and from here he could see it was a man and a woman, somewhere around Joe’s age, warm brown skin, black hair and dark eyes.  The man dropped the bag he’d been dragging behind him and stepped up a bit closer toward the ledge, leaving the woman to tighten the grip on the ball of sheets in her hand.

            “Please, we don’t want any trouble,” the man held his hands up.  “Please.  Just let us pass unharmed.”

            “Where you headed?” Vince asked.

            “What’s in the bags?” Thomas added.

            Vince turned slightly toward him, but said nothing.

            “It’s all we have.  We’re on our way to a camp.”

            Thomas met Vince’s gaze this time.  “What camp?”

            “The Right Arm.”

            Thomas’ chest hollowed. 

            “Have you heard of it?” The girl asked.

            “Yeah,” Thomas managed.  “Yeah, Vince was in charge.”

            “Not necessarily,” Vince replied, voice suddenly tight.  “It was a group effort.”

            “Wait,” the girl stepped forward.  “What do you mean _was_?”

            Thomas eyed Vince, but his eyes were trained on something else, something intangible.  A memory. 

            He turned back to the others. “Why don’t you come up the path with us?  We’ll get you some food.  My name’s Thomas.”  He held his hand out.

            The man stepped forward, grasping his hand.  “Manny.  This is my sister, Fran.”

            She nodded at Thomas.  “This is Ian.”

            Thomas twitched a brow in question, before his eyes caught on the bundle of cloth in Fran’s arms. 

            “If there’s some shade up there, I’m sure he’d like to see the mountain.”

            “Of course, yeah.  Follow us.”  Thomas nodded toward the path he and Vince had just descended.  The four began the trek up and when Thomas looked up to the top, he caught a quick glimpse of someone walking away.  Someone who must have been watching.

 

            “We’ve been travelling The Scorch for months,” Manny said over the bite of the salted meat.  “When we heard about The Right Arm, we thought we’d finally found a place to fight back, and also somewhere to go for protection.”

            “Protection?”  Harriet asked.  “Protection from WCKD?”

            Fran nodded.

            “Why would WCKD want you? I mean, no offense, but don’t they only take teenagers?”

            “They took our little cousin,” Manny spoke up.  “Right from his parents.  We vowed to find him and bring him home.”

            Thomas watched the exchange from where he sat, ignored the sinking feeling in his chest.  He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “How long ago did they take him?” He finally asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

            Manny’s dark eyes flicked to Thomas.  “Three years.”

            Thomas’ heart stammered a bit and he noticed Newt still his movements next to him.  He knew there was no use in asking the name, they wouldn’t recognize it anyway.  But something told him he must’ve known the boy, even in passing.  There were so many he never had time to meet. 

            Manny cleared his throat.  “I know it’s sort of useless to keep looking for him, they’ve probably done whatever they needed with him by now.”

            “Manny.” Fran said, more of an order.

            “I’m sorry,” Frypan put a hand on Manny’s shoulder and Thomas could see the same look of hurt on Fry’s face as Newt’s.  It was the look you got when deciding whether the brutal truth was better or worse than whatever Manny may have imagined in his head.

            “What happened to The Right Arm?” Fran asked, finishing the last of her food. 

            A silence settled over the group.  Thomas could feel eyes on him, but continued watching his hands where they hung between his knees.  Newt’s had ceased all movement next to him.

            “They found us,” Brenda answered.

            Thomas looked up to where she sat next to Fran, holding Ian in her arms.

            “Found you?” Manny asked.  “That’s impossible.”

            “The Right Arm was barely trackable by anyone,” Fran continued.  “They couldn’t have just found you.”

            “They did,” Brenda said, not taking her eyes off the child. 

            “How?” Fran asked.

            Thomas’ heart pounded beneath his shirt, loud enough to shatter glass.

            “They just did,” Brenda shrugged.

            “No way,” Manny shook his head.  “They had to have gotten word.  Someone had to have told them.”

            “Listen, I don’t know how WCKD-,”

            “We were betrayed,” Thomas said over Brenda.  He looked around the group now as everyone turned to him.  Almost everyone.  “We thought she was with us, thought she understood.  But she didn’t.  She chose them.”

            “Someone in your group?” Fran asked.

            Thomas nodded.  “We thought she was a friend.”  He felt a hand on his back briefly and looked up to see Vince return and join the circle.

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” Fran said.

            “So, what happened?” Manny asked.

            Thomas told them.  He told them about escaping WCKD, finding The Right Arm.  He told them about Teresa.  He told them about Minho.

            “So, you’re going to do what, exactly?” Fran asked.  “March into their facility and demand to have your friend back?”

            “I don’t care how we get him back, so long as we do.”

            Newt stood abruptly, eyes off toward the trucks, and Thomas jumped up next to him, shocked into movement from the sudden burst from someone who’d been sitting so still a moment ago.  “Newt?”

            “He shouldn’t be walking,” Harriet said somewhere behind him.

            Thomas turned toward the trucks to see Joe stumbling toward them, his leg dragging a bit behind him.  But what Thomas got stuck on was the look on the young man’s face.  It was a look of disbelief, of ache.  But more than those: a tender, broken look of relief.

            Newt made to step around Thomas, but Thomas put a hand on his chest to stop him.

            “Joe?”

            Thomas turned to the circle, to see everyone else turning as well.  All eyes landed on Fran, where she stood, hands shaking. 

            The girl stepped forward, nearly missing someone’s outstretched leg.  “Joe?”

            Thomas looked back toward Joe, where he’d stopped walking, leg still angled a bit outward. There was a broken, faint whisper of “ _Fran.._ ” before she was running and crashing into him.  Thomas watched her arms wrap around Joe’s neck, his face buried in tangled black hair, arms tightening around her waist.

            “Holy shit,” Manny’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him, but Thomas couldn’t turn to look.  His eyes were stuck on the two in front of him, a tangled mess of arms and tears and a sudden long, shuddered kiss between the two.

            And somewhere closer, against Thomas’ palm, Newt’s heart beat stuttered along shallow breaths.

           

 

            “There were four of us, originally,” Joe continued.  The group had settled into a circle, deciding to camp out for the full night.  Vince and two of the immune boys worked to collect kindle and wood from around the mountain paths for a fire, and now the group sat huddled around it as Joe spoke.  “We had a safe house with about ten or fifteen others.  But about a year ago, WCKD found us and invaded.  We were able to escape and hide out in an abandoned vehicle.  We stayed there for two days.”

            Joe used a stick to scratch beneath the makeshift cast Harriet and one of the immune boys had put together.  “After there was no movement outside anymore, we figured it’d be safe to move.  We were able to hot wire the car, but there wasn’t enough gas to make it run.  We searched radio stations and finally heard about The Right Arm.  We knew we wanted revenge for their cousin, but more than that, we needed a safe place.  Fran was a few months pregnant by that time and we needed to get her somewhere safe.  Decided the camp would be our destination.  As you can infer, it didn’t work out that way.”

            Vince folded his hands between his knees next to Thomas, eyes on the fire and part of Thomas had to wonder if Vince had heard this story from Joe before, or if it was the first time.

            “We were able to find run down supply stores in old towns.  Got whatever food we could, clothing, anything we could find that we thought we would need.  We travelled long hours, but I insisted we keep stopping to rest every few hours, worried how Fran’s body would do in the heat.”  Joe swallowed and something passed over his face.  Thomas watched Fran’s hand move from where it was wrapped around his arm to snake down and interlock their fingers, as she balanced Ian, fast asleep, in the other arm. 

            “It was smart,” she said, softly, almost to him alone.

            “One night,” Joe continued, clearing his throat, eyes still lost to the flames in the center.  “we were camped against a wall when we heard rustling.  I thought it might have been a rat or some wild animal.  I grabbed a knife and went to investigate, only to find two cranks rustling over an old plastic bag on the other side of the wall.  I should have just gone back to the others, but I acted first.  All I could think about was the two of them somehow getting past me and getting to Fran and the baby.”  His eyes flicked to Ian.  “So, I tried to fight them off.”

            Thomas watched another dark flash cross Joe’s features.  Everyone seemed silent around the campfire, barely breathing. Thomas watched Fran’s hand tighten briefly around Joe’s.

            “We heard the fighting,” Manny picked up.  “Noticed Joe was gone.  Immediately got Frannie up.  Larry said he’d check on Joe and meet us around the south corner of the building.  So, I got her over to the corner and we waited.”

            “Larry came just in time,” Joe took over.  “They had me pinned down and I’d nearly given in.  The strength is inhuman.  They don’t register pain, they don’t register anything.  Just pure adrenaline coursing through their veins.”

            Jorge shifted a bit in Thomas’ peripherals, and he could just about see Brenda’s knee nudge his briefly before Joe continued.

            “He saved my life, so I fought back harder now.  Got another wave of determination, I suppose.”

            Newt’s fingers played with the frayed end of his scarf, pulling stray threads out and letting them fall only a bit before getting swept up into the night breeze.

            “By the time I was able to kill one of them, Larry had killed the other and led me to the South end of the building,” He turned to Fran now, the first time he’d dragged his eyes from the flames.  “But you were gone.”

            “We had to leave, Joe,” Manny said, softly.  “We were surrounded. I thought you were…”

            “ _We_ thought,” Fran corrected, squeezing Joe’s hand once more.

            “Surrounded by cranks?” Bernard asked, blue eyes sharp in the firelight.  The sudden shift in voices jolted Thomas a bit to the present.

            “Yes,” Joe nodded.  “Larry and I were able to get out and run off, away from them.  But it didn’t last long.”

            Newt stood then, brushing off his pants.  “Sorry, excuse me.”

            Joe looked up at Newt and Thomas watched the two exchange a small nod before Newt turned to leave. Something in Thomas stirred and he reached out a hand to grab Newt’s wrist.  “Hey, you okay?”

            “Yeah, Tommy.” He nodded, a small reassuring hint of a smile on his face, and gently pulled his wrist from Thomas’ grasp before putting his hands in his pockets and walking off toward the trucks.

            “It happened about a month later,” Joe continued, and Thomas waited only another brief second before turning back to the circle.  “I didn’t recognize it at first, but looking back, it was so clear.  He hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating.  He could barely focus on conversation.  I thought it was just the heat of the Scorch, but I’d say things and ten minutes later he’d ask me the same question I’d just answered.”

            Brenda shifted a bit where she sat. 

            “I remember walking across sand banks and just having to stop every so often for him to catch his balance.  His legs shook, his hands shook when we tried assembling fires or do anything, really.  Muscle tremors and spasms.  I thought it was from the lack of food, but it didn’t occur to me that it was just another symptom."

            Frypan ran a hand over his mouth before letting it fall to his lap, something dark dawning behind his eyes.

            “When the veins started appearing around his neck, his wrists, I realized what it meant, but it was too late.  On one particular night, he asked me for a favor,” Joe paused, swallowed.  “And I obliged.”

            Thomas heard the break in Joe’s voice before he saw his head drop to his hands.  He felt his own heart hiccup, watched the ripple flow around the group.  The only sound to break the silence was the crackling flames over Joe’s shudders.

           

***

 

            An hour later, Thomas was walking between the trucks, eyeing the windows for movement.  He pressed his face close to the windows of Jorge’s truck before he heard Newt’s voice.

            “I’m back here.”

            Thomas turned and walked to the bed of the truck.  He lifted himself up on the back tire and looked over the edge of the truck to find Newt lying flat across the expanse, hands tucked under his head, something written on his face that Thomas couldn’t pin down.

            “What’re you doing?”

            “Didn’t want to hear the story again.”

            “Again?”

            Newt turned to him now, a lopsided smile on his face.  “Not all of us spend our time lost in our own heads, Tommy.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Have you ever asked Joe about how he started working with The Right Arm?  Or why Josh has that scar across his jaw?  Did you know Harriet was their version of a medjack in their Maze?”

            Thomas could only look back at Newt blankly.  He knew the answer, they both did.

            Newt looked back at the sky again and Thomas pulled his leg up and swung it over the edge of the truck gate.  He sat down inside the bed of the truck, leaning against the side.  “I take it you did?”

            Newt shrugged. “Everyone has a story, Tommy.”

            “Don’t think mine is worth very much, personally.”

            “There’s still time to make it a good one.”

            Thomas let out a small laugh.  “Yeah, how in the hell could I make anything good out of this?” He gestured vaguely around him.

            Newt only shook his head in response.  “Like I said, Tommy,” he tapped his temple twice with his finger. “Always lost in your own head.”

            “Okay.  _Now_ what does that mean?” Thomas laughed.

            Newt chuckled back, his chest shaking a bit before settling.  “Just, start paying attention.  Open your eyes, mate.  Everyone’s stories have good bits in them.  You’ve just got to find yours.”

            “How am I supposed to do that when everywhere I go, something bad happens?” Thomas laughed as he said it, but it struck him immediately how true it was.  “I mean, your life was probably all ‘good bits’ before I arrived in the box, right?  Order in the Glade, and all that.  Then, I come in and bring a whole storm of shit with me.” He shook his head, a light laugh floating out of his mouth.

            They sat in silence for a moment before he saw Newt lift a hand to his eyes, covering them, lips pressed together.

            Thomas leaned forward.  “Newt?”

            Newt’s hand swiped down his face as he took a shuddering breath in, eyes glassed.  Something constricted inside of Thomas and in an instant, he was kneeling next to Newt, hands hovering, having no clue what to do with them.  “Newt.  What’s wrong?”

            He watched Newt take a shuddering breath in and release it on a laugh.  “Nothing, I’m just…”

            Thomas continued to look down at Newt and, despite the smile, there was an ache written all over him.  “Newt, talk to me.  Come on.”

            “I just… Joe told me that story before.  About his friend.  About Larry.  And I just keep thinking back to Winston.”

            Thomas’ stomach dropped.  He hadn’t known Winston as well as he’d have liked, only spent a few days with him, constantly running from WCKD.  He didn’t know how long Newt had spent with him.  How much time he’d gotten to know him and become friends.  It briefly crossed Thomas’ mind how, in just a week, Newt had collected bits of information from all of these people.  How much had he collected from Winston?  How many stories does Newt have of a boy who will never be able to make another?  Newt’s eyes seemed to flick from one place to another, as if watching memories against the night sky.

            “And seeing Joe and Fran?  He thought he’d lost her.  Lost their child.  Was sure they were gone.  And,” his voice caught.  “We lost Winston.  We lost Alby, and Chuck, Zart, Billy, Justin, Jeff-“

            “Newt-“

            “-Clint, Jack, Rob-

            “Newt. Newt!” Thomas reached a hand out to Newt’s shoulder and when the boy kept listing names, he put another on his chest to shake him once, enough to startle him back.  He could hear his wild breathing, could feel the rapid pulsing beneath his palm. “Newt, look at me.”

            Their eyes locked on each other’s, and Thomas paused for a moment to let him breathe.  To let himself breathe.

            “You’re not going to lose anyone else.”

            “Minho.”

            “You’re not going to, Newt.  We’re going to get Minho back.”

            “Tommy, you don’t know that.”

            Thomas let out a small exhale and took his hands back from Newt’s shoulders.  He turned around and lied down in the truck bed, next to him, and looked up to the darkness.  “Newt, we’re not going to lose anyone else.  We’re going to find Minho, and we’re all leaving this place and everything in it behind us.  Then it’s just good bits from there on out, alright?”

            There was a silence between them. Thomas listened to Newt’s breath even out as the boy came back down. He kept his eyes on the sky above them, and thought back on Newt’s words about stories, telling him to open his eyes more.  He couldn’t understand how Newt could think it was that easy.  Thomas felt like he’d done nothing but stare wide-eyed at the world around him and all he’d seen was darkness.  His story was a cascade of death, betrayal, loss, and failure. How could he possibly find the good parts of a story when he was always drowning in the bad ones?

            “Thanks, Tommy,” Newt spoke up, pulling Thomas from his thoughts.

            “Of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Meet Manny, Fran (thanks to Rach for name suggestions..sorta...), and Ian (thanks to Owen for that one!) -- Loved the idea of the group meeting more people in the Scorch and hearing stories. I haven't really touched on it in this chapter, because it ended up having to be split in two -- but I wanted to play with the idea of children in The Scorch. There's a lot of questions I have regarding it, so I tried exploring that. It'll be touched on in the next chapter. This one ran away from me and became far too long. But there's that to look forward to!
> 
> 2\. Joe's Story - We needed some happy, some hope. So I wanted to give him a reunion with someone he'd accepted was gone forever. Seeing as Thomas' current goal is reuniting with someone taken with him, I thought it'd be nice for the boys to see this. It let me play around, also, with how Joe fell into The Right Arm. Where he was before, etc. and how he got there. It gave me a chance to write his background a bit - which I made into an obvious parallel with his friend, Larry (thanks to Rach for that name also). Couldn't help myself there.
> 
> 3\. Newt's Mild Panic Attack - Newt likes to listen. He cares about everyone else so much more than himself and is always checking on others. After the tunnel incident, Newt took it upon himself to talk to Joe, learn his story. So he'd already heard about all of this. It's likely that he shared a bit of his story with Joe, too. When he gets up at the campfire, they exchange a brief, knowing look. At least, that's how I'm hoping it comes off. 
> 
> 4\. Movement Around the Fire - Every movement, look, and reaction that Thomas catches from people around the fire are pointed out intentionally. Nothing is a coincidence.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope everyone's finding the good bits in my story :] Thanks for being patient with this update, been a wild week. Chapter 7 should be up Sunday, but it's also my sister's wedding so..... perhaps Monday. Sorry all. 
> 
> As always -- thank you to every single person who takes the time to comment (here, discord, messages, etc.) on these chapters. It means the world to me and keeps me writing. :]


	7. On Descents and Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: God Dammit, Brenda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you all for being patient with me this weekend! Hope it's worth the wait!

            Thomas jolted awake at the sound of Frypan calling his name.  He cricked his neck to the side, working out the tense muscles from falling asleep in the bed of Jorge’s truck.  There was an indent in the laid out tattered blanket beside him, but Newt was nowhere to be found.

            “Thomas!” Fry called again.

            “Yeah,” his voice came out dry, groggy.  “I’m coming!”

            He finally gathered the strength to push himself up and scratch out the tired from his eyes.  It was still dark out, only hints of light rays peeking over the mountains around them.  Dawn. Regardless of the fact that he could probably crash back down and continue sleeping, he was glad the group was getting a move on.  Minho was waiting. They only had two more sunrises before they were meant to reach the Facility and Thomas’ insides were turning.  _They were still on the mountain_.

            Thomas hurdled the side of the truck gate and ignored the impact of his boots slamming into the hard sand below.  He caught sight of Frypan wrapping up a towel by the mountain wall.  “Fry!” Thomas jogged over to him.  “Where’s Vince?”

            Fry pointed over his shoulder toward Joe’s truck where he seemed to be settling Joe in with the help of Manny.  Thomas gave a small tap on Fry’s back in thanks as he jogged over to the others.

            “Hey Thomas,” Vince said, buckling the seatbelt.

            “Vince we’ve gotta move.” 

            “I know, we’re getting everyone ready now.”

            “We’re already behind.”

            “I know, Thomas, we’re gonna head down in a minute, everyone’s packing up.”

            Thomas chewed his lip, his leg bouncing as he eyed the group.  “We should have left already.”

            “Thomas.”

            He felt two hands on his shoulders and he focused back on Vince’s face in front of him.  “Take a breath.  We’re getting down the mountain today.  No stops.”

            Thomas nodded, letting a small breath out.

            “Go find your friend.  He went wandering off this morning and wouldn’t talk to anyone.  Make sure he’s alright after last night.”

            Thomas’ brow furrowed.  “Who, Newt?”

            “Yeah.”  Vince turned back toward the truck to continue helping Joe get situated.

            Thomas turned and started back toward Frypan, who was now working with one of the immune boys to lift Manny’s supply bag into the back of Jorge’s truck.

            “Fry, you see Newt?”

            Fry shook his head, straining his arms to push the bag over the edge.

            “I think he went back toward Vince’s truck,” the other boy – _Josh, Thomas reminded himself -_  said.

            Thomas turned to leave but felt a hand grasp his shoulder.

            “Give him a minute, Thomas.  I think he needs it.”

            Fry’s eyes had a hint of concern behind them, but Thomas didn’t have time for whatever secrets they were keeping.  They needed to go.  Now.  Newt could take a minute to think in the car on the way down the mountain, and Thomas would help him through it.  

           

            “Newt!” Thomas jogged over to where the boy sat tying up the laces of his boots.  “Hey, I was looking for you.  We’ve gotta get going.”

            “Mhm.”  Newt pulled the laces tight and stood, dusting off his pants.  “Let’s go.”  His eyes stayed on the ground as he sidestepped Thomas and made to walk toward the group, but Thomas grabbed his arm.

            “Newt, what’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” Newt shrugged, still eyeing the sand below them.

            “Another nightmare?”

            Newt cleared his throat and shrugged Thomas’ hand off his arm.  “I’m fine, Thomas.  No bloody bad dreams last night, trust me.  Let’s go.”

            Thomas’ eyes narrowed as the boy walked off toward the trucks, hand rubbing the back of a sunburnt-red neck.  They’d have time to discuss whatever he was going through later, Thomas reminded himself.  They had to get moving.

 

            “Alright, in the trucks,” Vince clapped his hands, gesturing toward the three trucks for everyone to hop into.  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

            Thomas began to lead the way toward Jorge’s, but stopped when Newt diverged toward Vince’s. “Newt?”

            The boy barely looked at him as he spoke, “I don’t wanna sit back there.  Rather be inside.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to ask, but stopped as Fry clasped a hand on his shoulder.  “I think the truck bed agitates his leg a bit.  Come on, you guys come with me and Vince.  You can watch me struggle to drive.”

            Thomas let a small laugh out as Fry shook his shoulder and took off behind Newt. 

 

            The sun had already crested the horizon as the trucks rolled on.  Thomas tried shifting his shoulders again so he wasn’t leaning on Brenda, and then tried angling his head so it wasn’t bouncing off the window.  With the extra bags piled in the back of Jorge’s truck, and the two (and a half..) extra bodies, everyone had to squeeze tightly into the three trucks.  Given that Vince was taking the opportunity to keep teaching Frypan to drive, this put Thomas in the backseat with Brenda and Newt.

            The drive was filled with yawns, dusted with awkward shifts of limbs and peppered here and there with a question from Frypan about a control.  Brenda mostly helped answer some questions, once in a while asking some of her own.  Newt, on the other hand, was quiet as ever.  There was barely movement on his end of the backseat, mostly just him looking out the window, eyes glazed at some memory and hands resting on the knapsack in his lap.

            The only time Thomas actually thought he made eye contact with him, Newt glanced away just as quickly, back out the window with brows furrowed and body angled toward the door.  Thomas had no idea what this new attitude was about, and would have asked, had Brenda not spoken up at that moment. 

            “Thomas, your elbow is going to cut off circulation to my heart if you don’t move your arm.”

            Thomas’ eyes dropped to where his elbow was wedged beneath hers and practically inside of her ribcage. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled.  He adjusted his position so his back was sort of against the door, his leg propped on one of the bags on the truck floor.  He shifted his other leg once, twice, again.

            “Thomas.” She said, eyes closed, jaw locked.  “What are you doing?”

            “I can’t…I don’t know how to sit.”

            “Just fuckin’ sit like a normal person.” She opened her eyes and grabbed his shoulders, angling him back against the seat. 

            “Thomas has a problem with sitting normally in cars,” Vince called from the front, eyeing him in the rearview mirror.

            “Thanks, Vince.”

            Vince winked back at him before going back to the winding paths ahead.

            Thomas moved his arm and shoulder so it was in front of Brenda, then pressed himself into the seat so it was behind hers.

            “Just put your stupid arm around me.”

            “I don’t wanna be hovering over you,” Thomas mumbled to Brenda.  His shoulder was pressed against hers now and his arms were angled in on himself.

            “Oh my God, Thomas, it’s fine.”  She pulled his arm up and back across the seat, freeing some space between them. “We’ve been a _lot_ closer than this before if you remember.”

            Thomas’ heart jolted as his eyes shot to hers.  Somewhere behind her, he saw Newt turn his head from the side window to look forward now, eyes drifting.

            “What? Don’t remember our little kiss?” Brenda laughed, nudging his chest with her shoulder.

            Thomas swallowed as Fry coughed in the front seat.

            “Um, your little _what_?” Frypan turned over his shoulder now, eyeing Thomas.

            Thomas’ mouth went dry, but it didn’t matter.  Brenda answered for him anyway.

            “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” She laughed.  “Me and Tommy-boy here shared a little kiss at Marcus’ party.”

            “I’m gonna need more than that,” Frypan laughed from the front.

            “It didn’t mean anything, obviously,” she looked at Thomas as she said this.  “You know that. We were both drugged out on The Bliss an-”

            “Please stop talking,” Thomas said, staring at her.

            She laughed, shaking her head.  “It’s okay, Thomas, you weren’t _that_ bad.”

            “Brenda, please stop.”

            She laughed again, but faded to a stop.  “Thomas, I’m just kidding.  Lightening the mood.  It was-”

            “I know what it was.”

            Brenda rose her brows at him as he snapped, and even he was a bit shocked at the harsh tone of his voice.  He pulled his arm back from the seat and caved his shoulders in toward himself.

            “Okay, it’s dropped.”  Brenda faced forward again and leaned back in the middle of the seat, giving Thomas a direct view of Newt, staring out of the window again.  His hands held his knapsack in his lap still, knuckles white.

 

            The fifth hour in the truck didn’t get any less weird for Thomas.  The windows were rolled down to let in what little breeze there was under the beating sun.  The lower they got to the Scorch, the more brutal it became. 

            They stopped only once to relieve themselves and pile back in the truck, Newt insisting on shotgun to stretch his leg.

 

            The seventh hour was spent awkwardly removing the thin jackets while avoiding elbows in the eye and hands in mouths.  A canteen of lukewarm water was passed around.

 

            In the eighth hour, Thomas was jolted awake when his head rolled sideways where he slept and he banged it on the side window, earning a barked laugh from Brenda, a round of applause from Frypan, a muttered “careful Thomas,” from Vince, and barely a glance from Newt.

 

            By the tenth hour, they were finally back on flat ground and slowing to a stop.  The orange glow from the sun stretched across the desert, and the winds slowly picked up – a contrast from the burning heat they’d endured on the ride down.

            They sat on the edges of the trucks, some of them just dropping down to the sand.  Thomas ate his dried, stale bread and meat and ignored the crunch of sand between his teeth.  From the inside of Joe’s truck, he could hear static and blares of mechanical wails issuing out every few minutes. 

            “What’s he doing in there?” Fry asked, brushing crumbs and sand from his hands.

            “Radio,” Newt said over the wind.

            Thomas looked at him.  “Radio?”

            Newt nodded, shaking sand from his tattered red scarf.  “Trying to find a signal.”

            “A signal for what.”

            Newt shrugged, wrapping the scarf around his neck again and tugging it a bit loose to breathe.

            Thomas turned to where Joe sat half in the driver’s seat and half out, leg stretched straight to the sand in the makeshift cast. 

            “I think Jorge’s radio used to work,” Brenda said, squinting toward him.

            “Let’s check it out,” Thomas looked at Newt, hoping for a minute alone with him to find out what was going on.

            “Go for it,” he said.  “My leg hurts, I’m just gonna stay here.”

            Thomas bit down on a comment.

            “We’ll go,” Frypan offered.

            Thomas looked over to him where he stood now, helping Brenda up. 

            “I wanna ask Brenda something about the gears anyway.”  He led her over to the truck, a small glance back toward Newt before turning to her and whispering something.

            Thomas looked around now to see everyone busy in their own groups.  He took the opportunity.

            “Newt, what’s going on with you today?”

            “What do you mean?” He pulled the scarf from around his neck, shaking the sand out from it again.

            “I don’t know.  You’re being quiet.”

            Newt chuckled. “Sorry, Thomas, did you want me to sing?”

            “It’d be better than whatever this is.”

            Newt’s eyes made it as far as Thomas’ shoulder before dropping back to the scarf.  “I’m fine.”

            “Come on, man.  Talk to me.”  Thomas reached a hand out, tapping the boy’s arm, and his throat closed briefly when Newt twitched back from him.

            “Newt…?”

            “Sorry, Thomas.  Just.  Weird dream, I guess.”

            “I thought you said you didn’t have a nightmare.”

            “I didn’t.”

            Thomas watched as he tied the scarf around his neck again, loosening it so he could breathe.

            “Does it have to do with what you were talking about last night?”

            “Thomas,” Newt ran a hand down his sunburnt-red face.  “Drop it, okay?”

            Thomas blinked at him.

            A moment later, a crackled voice came from Joe’s truck, and he was ducking out of it to call out to everyone.  “We’ve got noise!”

            Thomas watched as most of the group jogged back toward Joe’s truck, but he turned back to Newt.  “Look, I’ll drop it, but I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

            Newt’s gaze shifted on the sand beneath his boots.

            “Newt, you’re my best friend.  I need you to talk to me out here.  I’m gonna go crazy if you don’t.”

            Newt’s eyes flickered up to Thomas’ now – for the first time all day, and it was like something realigned in Thomas’ head, in his nerves. 

            “Yeah, Tommy.” His voice came out just above a whisper. 

            “Newt, listen, I get it if you’re stressed or tired or upset about Minho or WCKD or…” Thomas trailed off at the look in Newt’s eyes.  The boy looked like he was on the verge of collapsing.  “Newt,” he reached a hand out to the boy’s shoulder.  “Hey, you okay? You look like you’re on edge.”

            “Thomas, shut up.”

            Thomas rose a brow at him, at the strain in his voice.  “What?  I’m just asking-”

            “I know, Thomas.” Newt’s voice came small now, his eyes were glazed, somewhere else completely, lost in some memory Thomas couldn’t grasp. “Just had a weird dream.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as garbled voices came from the static of the half-broken speakers in Joe’s truck.

            _in the field………ermission…………..can’t exi…….lightn…………melines……_

“Come on, come on, come on,” Joe repeated, spinning a dial on the dashboard.

            _….storms……forty three hou………….Cly…………ink they can control us! Think they can decide who lives and who doesn’t! Well, we say no! No to WCKD!_

The group stilled as a voice rang out clear from one of the stations. 

            “Joe, Joe, volume,” Jorge said, tapping on the truck.

            Thomas glanced back at Newt, who now seemed very much present, and the two walked over toward Joe’s truck now to hear the broadcast as he made it louder:

 

            _They think they can take our families! Our fr………..ed ones! Who are they to decide who lives and who dies? We say no! We say rise up! We sa………….nt you to rise up! Rise up and tell them you’ve had en……………ces! Gather them and move forward! Join us in the West! Join us in the fight! The fight for a future we des………._

Thomas looked up to Vince as the radio continued cutting in and out from some angry speech.

            “Sounds like a storm is gathering.”

            “More than a storm,” Joe said, leaning back in the seat.  “This is a rally cry.”

            “They said ‘no to WCKD’,” Harriet said, readjusting the shotgun permanently slung on her shoulder.  “So that means there are people out there fighting back?  People like us?”

            “There’ve been rumors.  Rumors of other camps along with The Right Arm,” Vince nodded to her.  “A lot of them were taken out by WCKD over the last year or so.”

            “Well, maybe some of them made it. It sounds like at least one of them is still out there.”

            “Is there any way to find out where?” Thomas asked.

            Joe shrugged, looking back at the radio, which seemed to have died out to a permanent static again.  “I can keep trying.  I don’t know how often I’ll be able to get that broadcast, or any broadcast for that matter.”  He leaned forward and scanned the stations again, but aside from a few clipped words from a gruff voice about weather patterns, there wasn’t much more they could gather regarding forces against WCKD.

 

            The winds picked up and the air cooled down on Thomas’ skin. 

            “This goddamned weather is going to be the bane of my existence,” Harriet groaned, pulling a tattered blanket around her shoulders, only to have the wind rip it away a moment later.  “Seriously?”

            “Here,” Frypan laughed, handing her a towel.

            “Thanks, stick.”

            “Frypan.”

            “Frypan? I thought you guys used ‘Shank’?”

            Thomas snorted in unison with Newt. 

            “No,” Fry shook his head, laughing.  “Frypan is my name.”

            Harriet looked among all three of them.  “Frypan,” she repeated.

            “Yep.  You can call me Fry.”

            She turned to Newt.  “You said you were the only one with a weird name.”

            “You didn’t tell her about Zart, huh?” Thomas laughed.

            “Who?” Harriet asked, but Thomas barely heard her over Newt’s lopsided smile.  It seemed the boy was steadily getting out of whatever zone he’d fallen into.  

            “Hey, kids!” Manny called over to them from the back of Jorge’s truck.  “Get over here!”

            Thomas exchanged looks with the others before pushing himself up from where he leaned on the truck door and walked over to Manny.  He was rifling through the giant bag of supplies, pulling things out and handing them off.  “Here,” he tossed something toward Thomas.  “Last thing we need is you kids getting sick out here.”

            Thomas unfolded the cloth in his hands to find a wrinkled, thick gray jacket.  He pulled it on, thankful for the reprieve from the biting wind against his arms.

            He looked up to see Newt pulling on a similar one in a dark red color, flipping the collar up around his neck.  “This’ll do,” he stretched his arms out, testing the length of them.

            “How come he gets that one?” Fry laughed, nodding toward Joe.

            Thomas turned to see Joe adjusting an exceptionally furry collar around his neck on the other side of the truck.

            “It was Larry’s,” Manny said quietly.

            An awkward silence flittered among the circle, broken only by zips and snaps of jackets.

 

            The group was piled back in the trucks and were on their way across the Scorch by the time night had fallen.  The winds had picked up now that the sun had gone back down, and Thomas could feel the pressure of them against the truck, rocking it as they drove on.  The windows were rolled up, but the gusts were still audible from inside. 

            The trucks slowed as the sand picked up in the gusts, blowing grains across the windshields, tiny rocks bouncing off of the passenger side windows.  Thomas tried to ignore the feeling in his gut as Newt flinched at the sounds every time a rock hit.  Tried to ignore the way he’d flinched from _him_ earlier.  He still wanted to know what the hell had happened.

            Even Brenda and Frypan had grown quiet, though they both seemed fairly amused about something.  Thomas felt like the whole world had spun in another direction in the last few hours, and he was the only person moving the right way.

            He was jolted out of his thoughts as something heavy banged into the back of Vince’s truck.  He slowed to a stop, pausing, the truck moving with the gusts of wind, gusts of sand. 

            “What the hell is goin’ on out there?” Newt’s voice nearly cracked as another gust of wind brought a slew of sand grains showering against his window.

            “Looks like a sandstorm,” Vince said.  His voice was set, but Thomas could see the worry written on his face as he turned to look out of the back window toward the other two trucks.  “Hang on.”  Vince pushed his door open and Thomas watched as the wind forced it open completely, making a grating sound as the metal ached against the force.

            He watched as Vince struggled to cover his face with the neck of his shirt, holding a hand up to the attacking sand as he walked back toward Jorge’s truck.  Thomas turned fully in his seat to see Vince – now joined by Manny – walk to the truck grate, helping Matt and Bernard down from the truck bed.  Manny helped Bernard into the passenger’s seat of Jorge’s truck, practically sitting him in Josh’s lap before heading back to Joe’s truck.  Vince helped Matt pull a rope across the bed of Jorge’s truck, securing Manny’s supply bag.  He shouted something at Matt and pointed to their truck before he leaned in the lowered driver’s side window to talk to Jorge. 

            “Move over,” Thomas said to the others, pushing his door open.  The wind pulled at his door too, and he nearly fell out of the car at the force of it.  Immediately, his tongue was coated in sand, his face bitten with the small grains.  “Come on!” His voice was barely audible over the roaring wind around him as he waved Matt over.  The boy stumbled diagonally as he reached the break between the cars where the wind hit him fully.  His scarf was torn from his neck and Thomas watched it rip off into the wind.

            Thomas took a few steps forward toward the back of the truck and reached a hand out.  It felt like his arm could have been pulled from his socket by the wind. Bits of sand continued to barrel into him.  He lifted a leg to move forward and stumbled sideways as another gust hit him.  He caught himself at the last minute as Matt went down into the sand in front of him.  He called out to the boy, but his voice was drowned out, his tongue coated with sand.  His face was numb by the time Matt’s hand found his, and he screwed his eyes shut and pulled with all the strength he had to bring the boy toward him from the ground. 

            In a moment, a bigger force pushed them toward the car and Thomas opened his eyes to see Vince’s arms envelope them against the side of the truck.  Thomas shifted sideways and pulled Matt toward him, forcing the boy into the backseat where Brenda and Newt had arranged themselves to make as much room as possible to fit him.  When Matt slid into the truck, Thomas quickly followed suit.  He pulled on the door as Vince worked his way around it and tried to push from the outside.  Matt stretched across him and grasped the handle and, between the three of them, they were finally able to close the door.

            Thomas heard a distant slam as Vince and Frypan worked together to pull the driver’s door shut and suddenly the outside storm was muffled, replaced with scratched breaths. 

            “You guys alright?” Fry asked.

            Thomas could only breathe, everything sore.  His throat felt as raw as it had after WCKD raided The Right Arm.

            “Thanks,” Matt rasped, still leaning on the door, trying to breathe.

            Thomas turned to where Newt nearly stood against the side door to make room.

            “Hate to break it to you guys,” Vince panted, “but you’re gonna have to find a way to sit and buckle up.”

            “What?” Brenda choked out.  “You’re gonna drive in this?”

            “If we don’t move now, the sand will bury the cars in.  We have to move now and we have to keep moving.”

            “Are you serious?” Frypan asked, brows nearly in his hair.

            “He’s right,” Thomas croaked out.  “We have to move.”

            “Thomas, the truck is gonna flip over in this wind,” Brenda argued.

            “No, it won’t,” Matt shook his head, coughing out the words.  He ran a hand down his neck as if he could wipe the sand from inside of it. 

            Everyone seemed to look at Matt now. 

            “Look at the sand patterns,” he coughed out, pointing out the front window.  “They’re moving this way,” he nodded toward the side of the truck that Thomas and him had just entered.  “If we drive straight into the winds, it’ll slow our speed, but we won’t tip.  It’ll put us out of our way a bit, but at least we’ll be movi-” His word cut off on another burst of coughs and Brenda reached out to rub circles on the boy’s back.

            Thomas looked up to where Vince sat.  “Vince?”

            “Boy’s got a point.  It worked for us once.”

            Thomas heard a small laugh from Matt. “Diamond Road.”

            “Diamond Road, Matty boy,” Vince laughed back at him, ruffling his hair with a hand, before turning back to the wheel.  “Hold on tight, gang.”

            Thomas had no idea what Diamond Road was or what it meant, but Vince seemed convinced, and if it meant they were moving toward Minho, Thomas would let it happen.  He looked across Brenda and Matt to Newt, who met his eyes.  Thomas gave a small nod, received one in return, and held onto the door as the car began to turn toward the sand, darkness enveloping them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Newt's having a rough morning. Weird dreams, man. Weird dreams about trucks...blankets...blankets in trucks...
> 
> 2\. I know I said I was going to discuss more about Fran and Ian in this chapter, but it ran away from me. Unless you want 8k-word chapters, I'm gonna have to separate these more. Sorry.
> 
> 3\. I'm well aware driving in sandstorms are actually terribly dangerous and *that's not how it works* but let me run with this okay? This is the same story with sun flare disease and scientists who trap children in mazes. Diamond Road must've been quite a memory from The Right Arm. Matt and Vince definitely find something funny about it.
> 
>  
> 
> Don't wanna put too many notes in here. Big things coming up, big things.


	8. On Moonlight and Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Learns to Keep Track of Time

Thomas reached behind him and ran his hand along the car door while trying not to elbow Matt.  He found the handle and pulled, holding onto Vince’s seat to keep himself from falling out.  He backed himself out of it and stepped out onto the sand.  The night air was still cool against his face, but at least the sand had settled.  He helped the others out of the truck before turning toward Vince.  “Worked better than I expected, I guess.”

            “That’s a first,” Newt mumbled, jumping down from the car.

            “I’ll have to check the engine,” Vince scratched his head.  “Driving into the sand like that is sure to have messed it up pretty bad.”

            “Shit!”

            Thomas turned at Matt’s voice and looked up to where the boy ran, a few steps behind Brenda.  With a quick glance back to Vince and Newt, Thomas took off jogging after them toward Jorge’s truck.

            He skidded to a halt at the truck as Jorge stepped out and Thomas briefly saw a trail of red before Brenda was throwing her arms around him. “What the hell happened?”

            Jorge pulled her back from him.  “I’m fine, Brenda.  I’m fine.” He turned toward the passenger side of the truck where Matt was helping Josh and Bernard from the seat they shared.  “Piece of stray shrapnel hit the car.  Don’t even know where it came from.  The window shattered in on us.”

            “We need a medkit,” Matt called over to them, voice still raw.

            “I’ll get Harriet,” Fry stepped around the group and jogged toward the third truck.

            “Thomas!”

            He turned to where Vince called for him from the front of his truck, hood lifted.  He glanced back at Newt, exchanged a brief nod, and jogged over.  “Vince, what’s going on?”  He eyed the engine of the truck, nerves peaking.  “What happened?”

            “Nothing, thankfully.  I mean, nothing too harmful anyway.  The sand definitely did its damage but nothing unbearable.”

            “Okay, good.”

            “What I am concerned about is fuel.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “Yeah, I thought about that earlier.”

            “We’re gonna have to figure something out here, Thomas.”

            Thomas chewed his lip, staring at the engine as if it would give him an answer.

            “Originally, I’d have suggested siphoning the fuel from one of the trucks and dispersing it for now, but that would mean leaving one truck behind.  We don’t have that option anymore.”

            “Because of us.”

            Thomas looked up to where Manny approached the truck, hands in pockets.

            “Manny, it’s not you.  We wouldn’t be able to leave a truck behind regardless.  That’s the reason we went through the caves when we were still up on the mountain.”  Thomas looked at Vince as he said this, to remind him.  “What other options do we have?”

            “How much fuel is left in the trucks?” Manny asked.

            “We’re just about finished,” Vince said, closing the hood of the car.  “Light’s on in this one and everything.”

            “Okay.  How long ago did the light go on?”

            “Mid sandstorm?”

            Manny eyed the truck, somewhere in thought.  He walked to the back of the truck and bent down to look at something while Thomas exchanged a look with Vince. 

            “Okay,” Manny walked back over.  “You’ve got about a two-gallon reserve once the light goes on.  This model should get you about 23 miles to a gallon.  Not sure about Jorge’s truck there, but I’ve already checked Joe’s, we’ll be able to make it with you on that.”

            There was a pause before Manny shrugged with a bit of a laugh.  “My family worked with cars.  Fran could hotwire a vehicle faster than you could spell your name.”

            “Remind me to have her teach me,” Thomas said.

            “She’d be thrilled,” Manny laughed.  “But listen, about the gas.  Fran and I came through a rundown town a couple miles out from here.  There were supply stores there that we can probably scrounge up some fuel.”

            “Close enough to reach on this gas?”

            “Definitely.”

            “Alright,” Vince took a breath and looked at Thomas.  “What do you think?”

            Thomas rose his brows.  “Me? Yeah, definitely.  We could use all the supplies we can get.  We don’t have much of a choice anyway.”

            Vince nodded.  “Alright.  Let’s check on the others, see when we can get on the road.”

            Thomas ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him that stopping through this town could push their plan back even further.  He just kept reminding himself they didn’t have a choice.  It was either find fuel or walk, and that would _definitely_ put them behind schedule.

            Besides, if they were close to a town, they had to be close to their destination.

 

            The group huddled around the trucks as the damage was surveyed.  Jorge’s truck and group took the brunt of it, the truck bed filled with sand, the seats covered in sand and glass.  Brenda helped clean up Jorge’s face – much to his chagrin at her fuss.

            Harriet finally got Matt to sit down with a full canteen of water and then took to tending the other boys.  Thomas watched as she swatted away Josh’s hand as he tried to keep her from applying some salve on his face.

            “Shit,” Thomas muttered, eyeing the boy over Harriet’s shoulder.  He could just make out a long gash across the boy’s forehead.

            Josh only shrugged.  “It’s alright.  I’ve had worse,” he laughed, gesturing to his jaw.  Thomas noted the crooked scar along it, and then the dark look that past over Bernard’s face.  While Josh seemed to have gotten the worst of it, Bernard’s face was peppered here and there with scratches as well.

            “Well,” Fran’s voice pulled him back.  “Since we’ll be sitting here a bit, I’m going to get some food out for everyone.  I need to feed Ian.  It’s been too long.”

            Thomas turned toward her now, a thought striking him.  “Fran, how do you keep track of the time passing?  I mean, I can mark the days with the sun but hours and all.”

            Fran lifted a brow at him and shrugged.  “Ian makes it easy for me to keep track.  From being mindful of feeding him for so long, I can gather how much time has passed.  Mostly it’s a gut feeling.”  She reached into the back of Joe’s truck, pulling out a small bag.  “A lot of it is on the sun, still.  Since we’re moving, I can’t exactly make out a sundial and watch it pass, but you can till mark the shadows.”

            Thomas looked down briefly before turning back to her.  “And at night?”

            She reflected his smile back to him.  “Well, it’s a bit harder then, but it’s not rocket science.  It’s only easy to use a moon dial during a full moon.  Obviously, that doesn’t happen every day.”  She pulled out a couple packets that looked vaguely familiar to Thomas.  “So when we do have a full moon, I use the light to mark the time and watch from there.  Each day after that, I use what little light is leftover on the half moons or whatever to mark it. But the trick with that is that the timing is off after that with each passing day.  There’s a little under an hour of a difference.  Lots of math involved.”

            Thomas blinked.  “And you can keep track of all of that?”

            She laughed at him, tossing the bag back in the truck.  “You learn to track when it’s important.”  She turned her head and Thomas followed her gaze over to where Joe sat holding Ian.  “The level of difficulty becomes less important than the need for it.”  She turned back to him.  “You’ll find you can do crazy things when the time calls for it.”  She winked at him before turning off to the others.

            “Oi!”

            Thomas flinched as a small cloth landed on his shoulder.  He turned to see Newt watching him, holding one of his own. “Can I help you?” Thomas laughed.

            “Actually, you can,” Newt smiled cheerily at him before nodding to Jorge’s truck. “So nice of you to ask.”

            Thomas let out a small laugh before following him over to the front of Jorge’s truck.

            “I don’t expect they’ll want to sit on broken glass while driving,” Newt said, pulling the passenger side door opened.

            Thomas stood behind him as he leaned forward to wipe some of the broken shards off of the seat.  Newt paused in his movements and slowly looked over his shoulder.  His face was coated in an expression Thomas couldn’t quite place.  “You know, Tommy.  I didn’t bring you here to watch me.”  He nodded to the driver’s side of the truck, laughing.  “Go on!”

            “What? You act like I’m supposed to know what you want me to do,” Thomas stammered.  He stepped back and turned to walk around the truck, his shoulder banging off the door where he banged into it.  He grit his teeth as he walked around the truck, ignoring Newt’s laughter.  He yanked the driver side door open, stepping back to avoid the bits of glass falling to the sand.

            “You wanna walk into that one, too, while you’re at it?”

            Thomas looked across the front seats to where Newt was smirking.

            “You want me to help or not?”

            Newt’s laugh filled the car.  “I’m just kidding, Tommy.  Relax.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes, dusting the glass off the seat, but it was fruitless.  He knew his smile gave him away entirely.

            When Thomas had successfully brushed the glass off of the seat, he moved to the dashboard, letting the shards fall over the steering wheel to the floor.

            “Shit!”

            Thomas snapped his head up to see Newt frowning at his hand.

            “Newt?”

            “Bloody shank,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his hand out.

            Thomas couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at Newt cursing himself.  “You alright?”

            “Yeah, yeah.”  He reached over and went back to brushing glass off of the dashboard, but Thomas could see a small blossoming spot of red on the cloth.

            He pulled himself into the driver’s seat and reached his hand over.  “Let me see it.”

            Newt looked at him.  “What, you’re a medjack now, yeah?”

            Thomas just gestured with his hand again, very much not looking at Newt’s smile.  He waited as Newt pulled himself into the passenger seat and offered his hand over.  Thomas took it in his own and pulled the cloth from his palm.  Sure enough, there was a small cut on the side.  It wasn’t anything excessive, and the blood would probably stop in just another minute or so, but Thomas took a minute examining it.  Just in case.

            “It’s not deep, but you should probably cover it anyway.  I could ask Harriet for a bandage.”

            “Hang on.”

            Thomas looked up as Newt reached into his pocket, his leg dangling out of the car.  He pulled out a cylindrical strip of dirtied white cloth, banded on one end and torn ragged and uneven on the other.

            Thomas took the cloth in his free hand, eyeing it.  He looked up briefly and met Newt’s eyes.  There was a question in them that neither of them asked.  Thomas looked back down and wrapped the cloth slowly around Newt’s hand, carefully tying a knot against the back of it – strong enough to hold, but light enough not to hurt.  For a moment, he thought back to what Fran said about being able to track time in ways other than a sundial.

            “Fantastic.  Happy now?”

            “You’ll be happy when your hand doesn’t fall off.”

            “Yes, Tommy.  A shallow cut is going to cause me to fall apart.”  Newt shook his head, laughing.

            Thomas could have named about a hundred things that would cause him to fall apart, but decidedly ignored this latest addition.

            “Come on, I think we’re all set here.” Newt pulled himself out of the truck and Thomas’ hand was suddenly very empty.  “I’m hungry.”

           

            Thomas settled against the back wheel of the truck, stretching his legs out.  A moment later, Newt was sliding down against the truck next to him, paper packet in bandaged hand.  “Fry’s favorite,” he laughed, handing it to Thomas.

            Thomas took the packet.  Dehydrated soup.  He could just about imagine the reaction Frypan would have had to this.  In fact, he didn’t have to imagine at all.  Some memory itched at the back of his mind, but he pushed it back.  Something about it stirred something in his chest he wasn’t ready to approach yet.

            “Can you imagine what that must’ve felt like?”

            Thomas looked up from the soup and followed Newt’s gaze across the camp.  A bit further past where Fry and Brenda were sharing a packet of soup, Fran and Joe sat close to one another, Ian in a bundle of blankets between them.

            Newt continued, “seeing each other alive.”

            Thomas looked at him then turned back to the soup in his hands.

            “They’ve spent the last however many months thinking the other was gone, forever.  Joe was so sure when he told me about her.”

            Something in Newt’s voice caught and Thomas looked back up again to see him leaning with his head against the truck, staring somewhere above him.  His eyes flickered among the stars above them, like he was searching for something between them.  “I almost…”

            Thomas waited as Newt breathed, pulling his legs up, bent in front of him.  “They almost didn’t see each other again.”

            Thomas closed his eyes momentarily before he spoke.  “Newt, we’ve been over this.”

            Newt nodded against the truck, causing the back of his hair to stick up a bit.  “I know.  I know.  It doesn’t make it any easier to push to the back of my mind.”

            “Newt, don’t think about that scenario.”

            “It’s hard not to, Tommy.”

            “Listen to me. Hey,” Thomas put a hand on Newt’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. 

            Newt tilted his head just enough to cast his gaze sideways to Thomas, face still angled at the stars.

            “Hey, down here,” Thomas laughed, another small shake to Newt’s shoulder. 

            Newt lifted his head from the truck and looked at Thomas directly now.

            “Look at them,” Thomas said, and he watched Newt’s eyes shift to their direction.  “They’re together.  They’re together now, Newt.  Any scenario you’re building in your head about what would have happened if they weren’t, if he didn’t make it, or whatever?  It’s useless.  It means nothing.  They’re happy now, they have each other.  Remember that.”

            He watched Newt’s chest rise and fall with his breath.

            “Over here now.”

            Newt’s eyes shifted to Thomas.

            “This is the last I want to hear about this, you understand me?”

            Newt swallowed, but there was a slight nod of confirmation. 

            Thomas continued, “this doubt and guilt you’re carrying around?  It’s not good.  It’s like you’re half here.  I need you to come back to me.”

            “I’m here.”

            “Barely.” Thomas saw something flickered in Newt’s eyes, but they stayed locked on his.  He took a breath and continued.  “You told me once that we all have our roles to play.  I need you to start playing yours. Just like you always have.”

            “And what do you suppose my role is?”

            Thomas took a breath, then another, eyes still locked on Newt’s.  His best friend.  The person who’d been by his side for as long as he could remember, since he got out of that box in The Glade.  The person who trusted him through all of his half-formed plans, his hunches, guesses.  The same person who fought through obstacles with him. The one who talked him through his doubts, his worries.  Every single time.  Along hours, days, weeks.  “You know how sundials work?”  The words fell out of his mouth on the barest hint of a whisper. 

            Newt’s brows twitched but he nodded. “Yeah”

            “Well, moon dials can work the same, but only on full moons.  From then on, you need to calculate differences in time or something,” Thomas shook his head, dropping his gaze to the soup packet still clutched in his hands.  “I don’t know, Fran was explaining it to me earlier.”

            “Alright, I’m sort of following you.”

            “Right, well.  When there’s no light from the moon, the dial doesn’t cast a shadow.  It’s gone and you sort of have to work out the time on your own.”  Thomas swallowed, wishing his heart would stop pounding against his chest, wishing he knew why it was in the first place. “I need to know you’re always gonna be here, Newt, even when it’s dark.  I don’t think I can do this on my own.” 

            There was a silence now across the moonlit scorch.  Rustling blankets and whispers floated toward them, but nothing audible.  The only thing Thomas heard clearly was Newt’s voice.

            “I go where you go.”

            Thomas nodded in the silence, felt time passing between them.  He took a breath, blinked himself back to the moment and put the soup down on the floor.  “I can’t eat this stuff, it’s disgusting.”

            Newt laughed.  “Yeah, I remember from last time.”

            Thomas chanced a sideways glance in Newt’s direction, but kept his mouth shut. 

            “You’re not gonna fall asleep on me again, are you?”

            Thomas shook his head, feeling the smile on his face against his will.  “Listen, you offered.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Newt stretched his legs out in front of him as he spoke, rubbing his non-bandaged hand down one of them and back up.  “The offer still stands.”

            Thomas’ heart stuttered.  That was an invitation.  He stilled against the truck.  What was he supposed to do?  Just fall asleep? There was no way he was falling asleep right now, no matter what time it was. He felt Newt nudge his shoulder and was shocked back to the conversation. 

            “This is when you offer the same, you know.” Newt laughed.

            “Yeah, yes, of course, obviously.”  Thomas blinked, begging for his mind to stop spinning among a thousand words and just pick one.

            “Good that.”  Newt shifted suddenly and, in a brief moment, was leaning back on Thomas’ shoulder.  “You owe me.”

            Thomas swallowed, breath constrained at the sudden solid weight against him.  His eyes locked onto a rift in the sand a bit further past his legs as he worked to keep his breath at a steady pace.  It was made all the more difficult at the fact that he suddenly couldn’t remember what that steady pace was supposed to be. Instead, he focused on Newt’s breaths, and he kept track of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. MPG of Trucks - Somewhere in the useless knowledge I have stored in the back of my mind, I know that once a gas light in a car (released after 2000) goes on, you have one more gallon of reserve gas left in your car to make it to a gas station. Given that TMR is supposed to be set years in the future, I can be lead to believe this has advanced. So... two gallons. Make of it what you will.
> 
> 2\. Moondials - Also in my stored useless knowledge: how to tell time in the desert at night. I ended up researching this once upon a time for a different story. Who knew it'd come in handy here? It's an important thing for them to know anyway, so it made sense to add it in. (It's 48 minutes, by the way).
> 
> 3\. It's a super short chapter, but I made up for it with Newtmas. Hope that evens us out.


	9. On Insomnia and Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Sleep, Thomas. Sleep.

 

            “Thomas.”

            The voice came soft, distant.  A whisper.

            “Thomas.”

            He struggled to follow it.

            “Hey.”

            A hand on his shoulder.

            “Thomas, hey.”

            “Mm?” Thomas’ head ached with fog as he forced his eyes open.  He took in a breath and blinked himself back.  The Scorch.  They were in the Scorch.  He grasped at the receding images in his head: green fields, a bleating goat somewhere in the distance.

            “Thomas, wake up.”

            The scraps of his dreams faded and he looked up at Vince. “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing, but we’ve gotta get moving.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” he cleared the tired from his voice. “Of course.”

            He was suddenly very aware of how light he felt sitting up, the lack of a weight against him.  While he couldn’t remember his dream, he could very much recall the steady, slow breaths against him, now replaced with the fading chill of the night. 

            He pulled himself up, stretching his back from where he leaned against the truck for support.  He looked down and grabbed the tattered white blanket that somehow ended up on him.  Two hours.  He’d gotten two hours.  That had to count for something, right?

            Harriet was already tossing her bag into Joe’s trunk, the car mostly filled.  “Thomas!” She called to him.

            He nodded to her in response.

            “Your friends will be back in a second.  They told me to let you know in case you woke up.”

            “Where’d they go?”

            She smirked a bit, closing the trunk.  “Newt said to tell you he’d give you a detailed report later.”

            Thomas shook his head, laughing.  “Great, thanks.”

           

            The trucks rolled on throughout the Scorch.  Thomas pushed himself against the door as much as possible so as not to take up too much room from the others.  Without the sand storm, Matt was able to hop in the back of Jorge’s truck with the others again, which freed up some space, but Thomas was still very aware of where Newt’s leg seemed to bounce against the door every time they hit a particularly big hill of sand.  The winces were barely noticeable, but Thomas caught every one.

            “How far off is this town?” Brenda asked, stretching forward into Thomas’ line of sight.

            “Manny said we had enough reserve gas to get there so it can’t be too far.”

            “Should be under fifty miles at that logic,” Vince said, eyes in the rearview as he spoke to them.

            “And if there isn’t fuel there?” Brenda asked.

            “Don’t say that, please,” Fry let his head drop back against the headrest. “There’s gonna be fuel.”

            “I’m just trying to be prepared.”

            “We’ll figure it out when we get there,” Newt spoke up, folding his maroon jacket.  He put it against the window as a makeshift pillow and leaned against it.  “Wake me when we are.”

            “How can you sleep in this truck?”

            Thomas nudged Brenda’s arm and when she turned to look at him he shook his head the tiniest bit.  Somehow, she was able to gather his meaning: let Newt rest.  It’d been far too long since any of them found the ability to do so.  Who were they to keep him from it?

            Thomas kept his eyes trained on the truck rolling along in front of them.  Manny led the way in Joe’s truck with Joe, Fran, Ian and Harriet huddled inside.  Behind them, Jorge drove with Matt, Bernard and Josh.  Somehow, they’d lucked out with transport and room for everyone, but Thomas had an aching feeling it wouldn’t last for long, especially if they were able to find supplies to take with them.  Especially once they got Minho back.

            It was just under an hour later when the sun was rising and Fry was pointing out of the window.  “Look!”

            Thomas pulled his focus together and leaned forward, to look out of the front windshield.  Brenda and Newt both joined him in the middle to see the hints of a town forming on the horizon. 

            “That must be it,” Vince nodded.

            Thomas felt Brenda shifting next to him as she sat back against the seat again, but when he turned to look at her, he caught the amusing sight of Newt’s hair sticking up from where he’d been leaning on the door as he slept.

            “What?”

            Thomas noted the small red lines on his face from where he’d been pressed into the folded jacket, and then shook his head in response.  “Nothing.”

            Newt’s brow creased in confusion but Thomas just turned back to the front of the truck and watched as they drove closer, letting the image of his groggy best friend work its way out of his head.

            “Can we get the radio in here like we did in Joe’s truck?” Fry turned a knob on the dashboard, pressed two different buttons, spun another knob. One of the lights blinked on the small dusty screen, but no noise followed.

            “I’ve tried, but nothing seems to work,” Vince sighed.  He stretched his shoulders back, readjusting his position as he drove.

            “You need a break?” Fry asked.

            “Nah, it’s alright.  We’ll be there soon.”

            “You hope,” Fry muttered, evidently giving up on the radio situation.

             Thomas craned his neck a bit to the dashboard where a small, faded orange light was glowing from the dashboard, the needle on the gas gauge hovering just above the E.

            “We’re gonna make it,” Vince nodded.  “Don’t worry.”

            “You think Manny was right?” Brenda asked.

            Vince shrugged.  “We’ve gotta trust he is.”

            The conversation fell silent as something stirred in Thomas’ gut.  He swallowed it down, sat back in his seat, and focused on the approaching town.

 

            Thomas stared at the broken construction as they slowed their progression into the shanty town. 

            “Home sweet home,” Brenda muttered next to him.

            He turned to her and saw her eyes dark and focused out of the window, mouth set in a line.

            “Hey,” Thomas nudged her shoulder.  “This isn’t home, not anymore.”

            Her eyes shifted to him, and for a brief moment he was able to realize how much time had passed since they’d trekked through this town.  Over the last month or two since they’d met, Brenda’s once-short hair had started growing well past her ears, just beginning to brush along her jawline.  Thomas subconsciously ran a hand through his own hair, eyes skipping past her to Newt, hair still stuck up at an odd angle.  His had grown longer, too.

            It only meant one thing to Thomas.

            Too much time was passing.

            He looked forward to see the break lights come on from Joe’s truck, and felt their own truck slow to a stop behind it.

            “Looks like we’re stopping here,” Vince pushed the gearshift into Park.

            The ignition was barely off before Thomas was opening the door and pulling himself out. He closed the gap to Joe’s truck, stepping up to the driver’s side door as Manny pushed it open.  “Where to?”

            Manny looked down at him, raising a brow.  “Sorry?”

            “The fuel.”

            “Well, we’ll have to check the buildings around here.  I don’t know exactly which place will have them.  I wasn’t exactly keeping an eye out for it last time I came through here without a truck,” he laughed.

            Thomas looked around at the broken buildings around them.

            “Thomas,” Joe said from his place in the backseat.  “Take a breath.  We’re gonna have to gather more than just fuel.  Let’s try to work out a plan of action here before we go rushing off.”

            Thomas bit back a retort as Newt approached them.

            “Alright,” he clapped his hands together. “Ready to explore?”

            Harriet snorted as she walked around the truck toward them.

            “What?”

            “Nice hair, Stick.”

            Newt reached a hand up to his hair and eyed the side mirror of the truck.  “Thanks for the heads up, Tommy,” he laughed, running a hand through his locks.

            Thomas cleared his throat as the group started to gather around him.  “Alright, let’s split up and check a couple places out.”  He caught Vince’s small nod to him before he continued on.  “Break up into groups of three so we can cover more ground.”  He nodded to Newt and Fry as everyone began to disperse, but then turned back.  “Joe, stay here, try to find that radio signal again.  Keep an eye on Fran and Ian.”

            Joe gave him a look that clearly said he knew Thomas was making an excuse for him, but he nodded anyway.

            Thomas walked off toward a broken-down building to the left, flanked by Newt and Fry.

            “That was good thinking, Tommy,” Newt said.

            “What?”

            “Radio signal.”

            He turned to catch Newt’s eye, the same understanding gleam in it Joe had, a hint of a smile there. 

            Thomas shrugged.  “Didn’t wanna leave Fran and Ian alone. Plus with…” Thomas let his sentence fade off, not wanting to bring up Joe’s injury.

            “You know,” Newt stretched an arm across Thomas’ shoulders as they walked in through a shambled opening to the building.  “You’re smarter than you look.”

            Thomas contorted his mouth, trying not keep the smile off his face as he shoved an elbow into Newt’s ribs.

            “Stronger than you look too,” Newt laughed.

            “Shut up,” he laughed, looking around the room. 

            They walked into a large room filled with broken tables and chairs.  Bits of sunlight drifted in through the broken glass windows as and dust and sand motes danced together in the rays.

            “What was this place?” Fry asked, picking up a flimsy, plastic covered sign.  He dusted the sand off of it.  “What is _Cornell’s_?”

            Thomas peered over Fry’s shoulder at the faded letters.  In some fancy script, _Cornell’s_ was written at the top.  Below it, the words were faded even more until they were practically gone from the page completely.

            “Hey, Fry,” Newt smiled over his shoulder from where he had been looking through a large opening in the wall.  “Come check this out.”

            Fry tossed the plastic thing aside and walked over to Newt as Thomas took in the area more. There were broken glass shards around the floor, crooked frames scattered along the walls with unreadable signs.  He moved throughout the room, avoiding turned tables and a small chipped podium when he stepped on something, scraping it across the wooden floor.  He lifted his leg and looked down below his shoe.  He crouched down and picked up the faded, dusted metal.  A fork.

            He heard clanging from around the other side of the wall where Newt and Fry disappeared, and stood to look over the opening.  He could just about see Newt walking through the room over there.  He stepped around the wall through the side opening and took in the scene: a long metal surface stretched along the entire room, albeit dented in most places.  There was broken porcelain everywhere, faded and crushed.  Long wooden sticks were broken and piled together, most of them crossed in a long X shape.  Large circular trays were scattered about the room.  Newt pushed one aside with his boot and immediately stepped back as something scattered from beneath it.  Thomas saw a flash of gray and heard a hint of a squeal before the thing was gone. 

            “Bloody hell,” Newt laughed.  “Scared me half to death.”  He ran a hand through his hair, eyeing Thomas.

            “Where’s Fry?”

            “Back here!”

            They both turned toward his voice, a bit further past the metal surface.  Thomas stepped forward and Newt seemed to wait for him to pass before he followed him around.  They found Fry inside a small alcove, broken bits of wood sticking out at odd angles.  What really caught Thomas’ eye was what was held in the alcove. 

            “Holy shit,” he breathed.

            “Jackpot, y’all.”

            The three of them scrambled to carry as much as they could: canned beans, rolled oats, dehydrated fruit and carrots and corn, bagged tea leaves and more.  Newt left briefly and returned with a plastic crate to carry more.  “Broken handle, but we’ll make it work,” he shrugged.

            “You think they have water?” Fry asked.

            Thomas scratched the side of his head, turning to eye the place.  It was definitely needed, but he didn’t know how good it would be.  He turned toward another alcove further back and pulled open the door, still hanging off of its one remaining hinge.  There were metal cylinders inside, dented, and an awful smell filled his nostrils.  Rot, mold. Sour and bitter. Like soggy bread left to fester in heat. 

            He covered his nose and stepped back from the room onto the broken amber shards of glass on the floor.  There were labels on some of the shards, but he couldn’t focus enough to read them.  He stumbled back toward the other two.  “Definitely no water.”

            “Y’alright, Tommy?” Newt laughed.

            “Just,” Thomas took a breath of the fresher air – saying something, considering it was still quite stale. “Don’t go into that back room.”

            Newt tilted his head to the side to look over Thomas’ shoulder.  “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.  Anyway, looks like we grabbed what we could here.  Let’s head back, yeah?”

            “Definitely,” Thomas nodded, taking some of the packages from Newt’s arms and leading the way through the broken down rooms.   


            The other groups seemed to have done well.  Brenda, Jorge and Harriet returned with whatever cloth they’d managed to scrounge up and another bag.  Matt, Josh and Bernard actually managed to find bottles of water for everyone to wash with.  Vince and Manny returned with a case of wires and ropes.

            “No luck on fuel, huh?” Joe asked, taking the box of wires from Vince.

            “Not yet.”

            “Let’s go back out,” Thomas said, dropping the food into the pile of goods.

            “Thomas, take a breath,” Joe eyed him, sorting through the wires. “None of you have had a decent meal in weeks and now we’ve got food.  Take a seat, eat something, then we can move from there.”

            “We’ve been stopping and sitting for weeks, Joe,” he dropped his hands to his sides.  “We’re already behind schedule.”

            “Thomas, you keep moving like this you’re gonna be a lot worse off than just behind schedule.”

            “We’ve moved forward on worse.”

            “Yeah, we did.”  Joe’s voice came out solid then, harsh for the first time since Thomas had known him.

            The words sunk deep into Thomas and, for a moment, the entire circle was quiet.  An invisible tunnel of silence, pressure, stretched between the two of them.  The apology was stuck in Thomas’ throat, blocked by the need to keep moving, the truth behind his own thoughts.  By priority.

            The moment was broken by a soft tug on his arm, and he let himself be walked off.  He tore his sight from Joe, who’d already dropped his own gaze down to the floor between them, mouth set in a line, body stilled under the weight of everyone’s stares.

            Thomas walked in silence next to Newt along the line of trucks, the boy’s hand on his arm grounding him, keeping his mind on the moment.

            When Thomas couldn’t take the silence anymore, he spoke, “where are we going?”

            Newt barely glanced at him, the only proof that he’d heard him was a small tightening of his fingers on Thomas’ arm, the smallest shift in his eyes.

            “Newt,” he sighed, pulling his arm from the boy’s grasp finally.  He stopped walking and waited for Newt to pause as well.  He stared at the back of his head for another moment before speaking again.  “Newt, you have to know I’m right.  We need to keep moving.”

            “Tommy,” Newt ran a hand down his face before turning around.  “I know we do.  I know that more than anyone, trust me.  Time has never been on our side.  But you need to hear what he’s saying.”

            “I do, Newt.  I get it.  But every time we stop that’s more time Minho’s in-.”

            “I _know_ , Thomas.”

            Thomas felt a muscle in his jaw feather at the snap. 

            “I know.”  Newt’s voice came softer as he took a step closer to Thomas.  “None of this is helping, though.  We’ve gone weeks, longer, without proper food or sleep.  Hell, Tommy, last night was probably the most I’d slept since I can’t remember when.” He ran a hand through his hair with a weak laugh.  “And it was against the bloody wheel of a truck.”

            Something stirred in Thomas’ chest at the memory, but he pushed it down.  It wasn’t the time for that.

            “Newt, I made a promise to him.”

            “I get wanting to save Minho, believe me.  Nobody wants him back more than I do.”

            Something about the way Newt said this struck Thomas.  There was an implication there, a reference.  A memory in Newt’s eyes.

            “Just don’t be irresponsible about it.  You have a tendency to make rash decisions,” he laughed.

            “I’m just doing what I think is best.”

            “I know, Tommy, I know that.  We all do.”  Newt stepped forward, bracing a hand on Thomas’ arm again, fingers curling around him.  “You’re a leader, Thomas.  I told you this a million and one times.  Vince has told you.  Hell, even Harriet looks to you for direction.  I know you have to make decisions, but it doesn’t mean you can’t listen, yeah?” He shook Thomas’ arm with a smile that Thomas couldn’t return.

            Something about this conversation was grating against Thomas’ skin.  He didn’t realize how much Newt’s opinion of his choices meant to him until that very moment.  Until he heard him disagreeing.

            “Thomas, come on.”  Another squeeze of his arm.  “You’re somewhere else, right now.”

            Thomas only nodded.  “I’m good.”

            “No, you’re not.  You’ve barely slept a wink, haven’t eaten.  I’m gonna bloody shove you into blankets myself if you don’t get to it.”

            Thomas blinked.

            Newt sighed, dropped his hand.

            “One more night, Tommy.”

            Thomas gave another tight nod.  “Sure, Newt.”

            “One more night and I promise I’ll be at the front lines with you.”

            More of a twitch, than a nod.

            Newt’s eyes tightened, but he seemed done speaking.  He gave another small squeeze of Thomas’ arm before he dropped his hand.  “Come on, if we’re doing this tomorrow, we’d better eat now.”

           

            Despite his tightened chest, the stinging of nerves, Thomas let himself indulge.  He ate in silence with the rest of the group as they conversed about things he couldn’t keep track of.  His focus was set.  He’d promised Newt one night.  He counted the hours.

 

            Harriet changed Josh’s bandages just after they ate.  It took roughly ten minutes.

 

            At sunset, Fran let Newt hold Ian, told him the story behind his name.

 

            Joe apologized to him two hours past sunset.  There was a genuine lilt of his voice, a shadow on his face, shame in his eyes.  The apology was written everywhere.  Thomas barely heard a word.

 

            An hour after that, Thomas leaned on the hood of a truck with Vince, flashlight in hand, focus steadied on the torn map.  Faded lines and ridges. Arrows and X’s, circles and dashes drawn on. His eyes stuck on one specifically.

 

            Another hour after that, Thomas let his eyes wander the abandoned buildings, dilapidated structures, rotted wood. 

 

            Two more hours after that, Thomas sat against the front of Vince’s truck, knees bent, arms resting, hands dangling, heart pounding.  His gaze was set on long stretch of buildings.

 

            Twenty minutes later, a sigh and an uneven gait hit his ears.

            “I take it you’re not going to bother taking time to sleep.”

            A feathered muscle of his jaw was his only response.

            _Time_.

            They were fresh out of time to do anything.

            Couldn’t Newt see that?

            Hadn’t they just talked about this?

            Newt slid down against the truck, extending his legs, leaning his head back on his folded jacket, eyes closed.

            “Newt, go sleep in the truck.”

            “Shut up, Tommy.” He shifted his back getting as comfortable as he could against the metal.  “Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

 

            Two hours after that, Thomas looked sideways to where Newt was sleeping.  Quiet even breaths, a small twitch of his mouth, white tattered blanket pulled around his shoulders against the cool night air of the Scorch, dropping on one side beneath a sharp collarbone.  His eyes were shadowed, sunken. 

            They all had the same hollow looks in their faces now.  The same bones pushing against skin.  Thomas knew it wasn’t hunger, wasn’t exhaustion.  It was the waiting that was slowly killing them.

 

            Ten minutes after that, he was moving.

 

            He stepped quietly past the driver’s side of the truck, Vince snoring against the headrest.  Brenda was stretched across the backseat, taking full advantage of Thomas and Newt’s absence. He eyed the door, remembering the groaning of metal that accompanied the opening of it.  He’d have to avoid that. 

            He moved past the truck and stopped at the next one.  Jorge’s truck.  He walked to the other side.  Matt slept with his head against the door frame, the breeze lightly fluttering into the truck through the hole left from the broken window.  Thomas’ eyes landed on the center console.  On Matt’s dagger.

            Thomas stepped up on the metal ledge of the truck and lifted himself.  He pushed enough to leverage his hips on the edge of the door, flinching at a bit of glass he and Newt must’ve missed in their cleaning.  He leaned forward, ignoring the pressure against his hips, and stretched his arm forward across the seat, careful not to touch Matt.  His fingers stretched, but not enough.  He barely grazed the handle of the knife.

            He brought his hand back to the door’s edge and lifted himself a bit further up.  He braced one hand on the dashboard to balance himself as he reached forward again, straining his body.

            One tap of the knife.  Another.  And finally, he was able to trap the handle between two of his fingers.  He slowly inched it toward him until he was able to get a better hold, body straining.  He pulled his arm back to the window and lifted himself up and back out of the window, finding the metal grate and stepping back down into the sand.  He chanced once more glance at Matt to be sure he was asleep before he walking off, rubbing his hip, ignoring the warm trail of blood he felt dripping.

 

            An hour after that, he was halfway down the road, dagger tucked into his waistband, eyes scanning.

            He counted his steps, marked the buildings he passed.  Right, left, down an alley.  He ignored the flashes of ivy and stone.  Thoughts of Minho.  Replaced them with his surroundings: shards of shrapnel, fluttering paper, faded yellow dumpster with chipped deep purple paint sprayed on the side: The WCKD Will Fall.  And there, _there_ , just in the distance.  Broken sign, broken pumps, broken windows.

            Thomas’ pace quickened.

 

            He reached the abandoned lot, the ground sturdier here. Gathered his surroundings, fingered the dagger.  Eyed the pumps, picked one up.  The metal was cool on his skin, heavy in his hand.  He pressed a button.  Nothing.  He pushed another.  Nothing.  He slammed a fist down. 

            Nothing.

            He dropped the pump to the floor, letting it crash to the concrete and sand below.  Turned, caught sight of the building, windows shattered, and climbed through, kicking the remaining glass to the floor. The shelves here were empty, some broken. He looked at anything remaining: a discarded towel, faded books, a pen that didn’t work. 

            His eye snagged on the faded red plastic bin in the far corner.

            Thomas lifted it and closed his eyes at the sloshing sound coming from within.

            “Please,” he barely breathed.  “Please.”

            His hand strained against the plastic cap.  He jogged back to the discarded towel and used it to try again, but to no avail.  He lifted the contained and lugged it out of the shop.  _That’s_ when he saw it.

           

            He wrenched the car door open, ignoring the creaking metal.  _Keys, keys, keys_.

            Nothing.

            He swallowed, dry.  He can’t be this close.  This close to a solution only to _not have one_.

 

            But, then again.

 

            Of course..

            Of course he came all this way.

            All this way to nothing.

 

            Thomas crashed back against the vinyl.

 

            Of course they were right.

 

 

***

 

            His eyes shot open immediately.

            No, this didn’t happen. It couldn’t have.

            _Fuck._

            Thomas rammed his shoulder into the car door, flinging it open.  He staggered out, eyes up to the sky. He breathed the smallest relief at the deep blue, the faint glow threatening the horizon.  It’d only been an hour, maybe two. 

            Today was the day.

            He had to get back to camp.

 

  
***

           

            Thomas peered around the truck for the second time, sure he must have missed something.  He couldn’t find Newt anywhere around the camp, or inside the trucks.  He peered around Vince’s truck again at the bundled, tattered white blanket.  He stifled a laugh as it moved.  How did he miss it the first time?  He stepped forward and crouched down next to the balled-up lump.

            “Newt,” he reached a hand out and prodded the blanket.

            “Mmf.”

            “Newt,” he laughed, another prod.

            The blanket thrashed for a minute, rolled over, thrashed again, and was pulled down from over his head as he suddenly sat up.

            Thomas snorted at the disarray of blonde hair, one eyes pressed closed, frown ever present.  He couldn’t help his smile, didn’t have the energy to bother to hide it. “Good morning.”

            “Mm,” Newt rubbed his eyes, blinked himself awake and finally looked back up.  “Mornin’.”  His voice was thick with sleep, and even his yawn sounded accented. “Time’go, Tommy?”

            “Try that again?”

            “Shove off,” he laughed, pushing Thomas’ shoulder almost enough to knock him off balance.

            “Go sleep in the truck at least,” Thomas said, standing.

            “Sleep?” Newt squinted across the sand in the sunrise.  “We’re not leaving?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Not yet.  You’ve got a little bit longer.”  He reached a hand down and grasped Newt’s to help him stand before he turned.

            “Tommy,” Newt pulled his hand back, spinning Thomas back around to face him.  His eyes dropped low and Thomas followed his gaze to his hip, specifically the dark, dried red splotches on his shirt.

            “Oh, this is from the cave, I think,” Thomas shrugged, pulling his hand back and turning away.  “I’ll grab one of the new shirts.”

            “Where’s Vince?” Newt asked, eyeing the empty driver’s seat.

            Thomas pulled open the door.  “We’re just gonna take a look at the map again for a bit before we start to head out.” He nodded to the seat.  “Here’s your bed for now.  Brenda sadly took up the entire backseat, but it’s better than using the license plate as a pillow.”

            Newt put his fingers to the corners of his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them.  “No, it’s fine, I’ll come with you.”

            “Newt, no,” Thomas shook his head.  “Go back to sleep. I only woke you up to let you get some rest somewhere comfortable.”

            “Tommy, I’m fine.”

            “Newt, you yelled at me all day yesterday about getting sleep and now _you’re_ not gonna get sleep?  Seems pretty hypocritical to me.”

            Newt eyed him, but slid into the driver’s seat.  “Wake me up as soon as you’re done.”

            Thomas nodded, pressed his lips together and closed the door.

            When he was sure Newt was closing his eyes to sleep, he looked across the trucks to the back of Joe’s where Vince and Fran stood, waiting for him.  He gave one more glance toward Newt before walking toward them, fingering the dagger in his waistband once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sleep is important. Ironically, I wrote this chapter on 4 hours of sleep, myself. 
> 
> 2\. Thomas dreams about foats. 
> 
> 3\. Okay, as for real notes: Sleep is vitally important - and Thomas has not been getting nearly enough. Lack of sleep like this messes with cognition. Thomas' narration is already skewed and unreliable. Thomas on a lack of sleep is an entirely different story. There's more to these scenes than even he realizes. 
> 
> 4\. That being said, I hope the writing wasn't too out of place and jagged for you guys. Just trying to get across Thomas' thoughts correctly. His current status, his current way of thinking - short, fragmented moments. It doesn't matter so much the construction of the ideas, but as long as he knows the main bits, that's all he can focus on now.
> 
> 5\. Thanks to Rach for help with the title!!


	10. On Hotwiring and Hotheadedness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: The Tired Eye Plays Tricks on the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Hallucinations, violence, mention of gun violence, death, blood
> 
> A/N: Please, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, do not read this chapter if you can't and I totally understand and it's OKAY because I wrote it in a way that you CAN continue reading the story without reading the chapter for that reason exactly. Thank you.

           

            “Thomas, are you sure this is the way?” Vince asked.

            Thomas only nodded, running a hand down his face.  He knew these landmarks.  They were going the right way. 

            Right. Left. Down the alley. Passed the vine with the twisted broken leaf.  No, no.  It wasn’t a vine.  It was a crack in the wall. There were no vines here.

            He turned against another ston- _brick_  wall. There was the dumpster.   _WCKD IS GOOD_.

            Thomas spun to eye the graffiti.

            “Thomas?” Vince’s voice asked.  “You okay?”

            Fran said something. Something.

            Thomas blinked.

             _The WCKD Will Fall_.

            “I’m good.  It’s just a bit further up.”

           

            “Well, this can be easily done,” Fran nodded from the driver’s seat, tossing her braids over her shoulder.  “You have that flashlight?”

            Thomas reached in his waistband and handed it to her.

            She looked at it and back to him.  “Thomas?”

            “Oh,” Thomas laughed. “Do you need me to hold it?”

            He watched Fran’s eyes flit to Vince’s. 

            “Thomas,” Vince said.  “Flashlight.”

            Thomas looked down to his hand, Matt’s dagger gripped in it.

            When did he grab this?

            A laugh bubbled up.  “Sorry, wrong side.”  He swallowed, replacing the dagger.  Reached into his back pocket and felt the cylindrical steel of it, the ridges of the power switch.

            He handed it over to Fran.  “Can you teach me?”

            Fran raised a brow.  “To hotwire?”

            He nodded.

            “Sure, of course.”

            Thomas crouched down next to the car, focus zoomed in.

            “These wires here,” Fran said, palming some chords, “are for the lights, so don’t worry about these.  It’s the ones here,” she brought forward another bundle, “that you want to pay attention too.”

            Thomas blinked.  “Okay, and where did you pull these from?” He lowered his head to look blow the wheel further.

            There was a beat of silence and he looked up to see Fran and Vince exchange a look.

            “Thomas,” Fran started, looking back at him.  “Right in this panel.  Remember? We just took it off.”

            Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Right. Got it.”

            “Thomas,” Vince started.

            “Okay, so it’s these wires,” Thomas barreled on.

            Fran cleared her throat before continuing.  “This is the battery and this is the ignition,” she showed him the two separate wires.

            Thomas nodded.  He needed this.  This would be necessary. He was lucky to find the car.  The gas, too.  He’d have to remember to grab the gas.  He should probably make Vince do that now before he forgot.

            “All you have to do is just lightly touch them,” Fran emphasized.

            Thomas blinked, watched as she touched a brown wire to two bundled up wires.  A moment later, the engine revved.

            “Okay,” Thomas repeated.  “Battery and ignition. Got it.”

            Fran looked at him.  “And the starter wire, Thomas.”

            Thomas looked down at the three wires.  Two were wrapped together.  He…remembered her doing that. Obviously.

            “Right, yeah.”

            “Make sure you keep this wire separate from the other two,” she held up the brown wire. “It’ll drain the engine.”

            “Vince,” Thomas turned, standing.  “We need to grab the gas.”

            Vince nodded toward the open trunk.  Four plastic red containers were shoved in there.  “We’ve got them, Thomas.”

            “Perfect.  Let’s head back.”

            “Thomas,” Fran said.  She stopped then, eyeing Vince.

            “What?” He looked between the two of them.

            “Thomas,” she repeated.  “When’s the last time you slept?”

            “I’m fine.  I slept last night.”

            “Did you?” Vince asked.

            “Yes,” he snapped.  “Can we go now? I promise we can discuss my sleeping habits later today after we’ve gotten Minho.”

            Vince only nodded in response.  “Okay, fine by me.”

            “Let’s go.”

            Thomas pulled the back door open and slid in behind the driver’s seat. The car slowly rolled backward as Fran reversed. 

            “Alright, you’ve just gotta direct me back toward that alley way,” Fran said, shifting gears.  “I think I can find it from there.”

            Thomas nodded, head brushing against the back of the seat.

 

            “Thomas, a right here?”

            He blinked a few times and looked out the window. 

            He cleared his throat.  “Oh, no no. Up there.”  He pointed to the pile of shrapnel he recalled from the night before.  Did they already pass the dumpster? 

            “I remember from here,” Vince said softly to Fran.

            He watched them glance at each other, share a nod.  Thomas nodded too even though they couldn’t see him.

            He nodded again for good measure.

 

           

            He felt the rumble of the car stop as he blinked against the pale blue. Rays of light were beginning to break over the town.

            He stretched his shoulders back.  A yawn escaped and he ran a hand down his face.  The fog cleared from his brain as he pushed open the door and stepped out.  A power nap. That’s fine. That was enough.

            “I see it was a success,” Joe nodded to them, clasping hands with Vince.  He leaned down to give Fran a small kiss on the cheek.

            “Is Newt awake?” Thomas asked, the bit of sleep he’d gotten fading away.  Today was the day.  He needed to be awake for this.

            “Uh, no I don’t think so,” Joe scratched his head, looking back toward camp.  “Some of ‘em are still sleeping.  I haven’t seen him.”

            “I’ll go get him up.  Vince, meet in five.”

            Vince just nodded in response.

 

            Thomas pulled the driver’s side door of Vince’s truck open.  There was a cocoon of blankets in the front seat, bits of a maroon jacket showing. Next to him, in the passenger’s seat, Fry slept under a black jacket, a small snore escaping.

            “And where were you?”

            He turned suddenly at Brenda’s voice.  Her arms were crossed as she leaned against the truck.

            “With Vince and Fran. We found a car.”

            “Yeah, I gathered as much,” Brenda scoffed.  “That’s awesome, though.  We need the space.”

            Thomas turned back to Newt.  He felt bad waking him up, but they needed to get going.  Sooner than later.  Today was the day.

            He tugged at the white blanket once, twice.

            “Newt, get up buddy.”

            Brenda sighed and shoved him aside.

            In a split second a blaring sound echoed across the small town, Newt had jumped up, Frypan shrieked, and Thomas’ hand was on the dagger.

            “Wake up,” Brenda said, pulling her hand back from the horn of the steering wheel.  “Thomas is gonna have a conniption fit if we put this off any longer.”

 

            The group stood huddled around the hood of Vince’s truck, the map spread out.

            “We can’t take everyone,” Thomas reminded the group, focus set.  “This has to be a quick, small rescue.  If there are too many of us, we’re going to be caught.

            “You still need enough people for backup, Thomas,” Joe reminded him.

            “I know, but I don’t need all of you.”

            “We,” Newt corrected, eyes scanning the map.

            “Right,” Thomas said.  “We don’t need all of you.”

            “Okay, well we need to sort this out now,” Vince crossed his arms.  “What’s your max?”

            “Four.”

            “Four?” Joe choked.  “Thomas, four isn’t nearly enough for anything.  There are thirteen of us here.”

            “You want me to barge in there with thirteen people?” Thomas snapped back.

            “He didn’t say that, Thomas,” Newt muttered.  Thomas felt fingers lightly graze his lower back.

            “Sorry,” he shook his head.  “Didn’t mean to snap, I just want to do this right.  I… we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

            “Exactly, Thomas,” Joe leaned back on the hood of the car.  “We’ve gotta be responsible about this.”

            “Eight people,” Harriet shrugged.

            “Six,” Thomas countered.  “Split it even.  That’s final.”

            “Six it is,” she nodded. 

            “Bertha then?” Frypan asked.

            “No, we leave that here.  Too much supplies stored in there.” Thomas knocked on the hood of Vince’s truck.  “This and the new car.”

            “New car?” Harriet asked.

            “Thomas found one last night,” Vince answered with a nod in the direction of it.

            The group turned toward the car.

            “Last night?” Newt asked, the only one still looking at him.

            Thomas looked back down to the map, nodding.  “Yeah, just up the road a bit.”

            “That’s great,” Josh added.  “We need all the transport we can get.”

            “Gas too?” Bernard asked next to him.

            Thomas nodded tightly, ignoring the weight of Newt’s gaze still on him.

            “That’s real great,” Newt said, flatly. “Great job, Thomas.”

            Thomas glanced up at him and regretted it instantly. The ire was hidden well under a passive face, something Newt seemed to have mastered, but Thomas could feel it roiling off of him. 

             _It’s fine_ , he told himself, looking back down at the map.   _It’ll be worth it when we get Minho back._

“Alright,” Josh nodded.  “What’s this grand plan of yours?”

            Thomas pulled his eyes from Newt to turn and look at Josh.  He took a breath.  The plan.  Right.  He had a plan.

 

            “Thomas,” Frypan called out to him, tossing a small portion of the dehydrated fruit.  “Eat up.  Need your strength.”

            Thomas nodded in thanks.

            “You alright, Thomas?”

            He looked up at him.  “Yeah, why?”

            “You just seem very distant.  I don’t know,” Fry shrugged.  “Could just be me.”

            Thomas laughed.  “Must be all the dehydrated food you’re eating.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            Thomas leaned against the truck, bouncing his leg.  “Fry, it’s a good plan, right?”

            Frypan looked at him, brows furrowed.  “Yeah, Thomas.  I mean, it’s the best one we’ve got, anyway.”

            “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

            “Which makes it the best one,” Frypan laughed.

            “I’m serious.”

            “So am I, Thomas.”

            “I don’t think the others would agree.”

            “Are you kidding?” Frypan leaned on the truck next to Thomas, looking out across their small camp.  “They’re all following you, Thomas.”  
            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “That’s what’s worrying me.  What if I mess up?”

            Frypan sighed, pushing himself off the truck.  “Thomas, I’m no good at this.  I don’t give good pep speeches.  All I can say is that I trust you.  You want someone to talk to, go talk to Newt.”

            Thomas’ gaze snagged on Newt across the camp, sitting on the floor with Harriet and the three immune boys. He’d kept his distance since Thomas revealed the plan, and it was getting under Thomas’ skin more than he’d liked to admit.  “We can talk after.”

            He was vaguely aware of Frypan shaking his head as he walked off, but he didn’t think of it too much.  What he did think on was the time.  The sun dawned fully over the sky now.  They had to move.

            He kicked off the truck and walked forward toward Newt and the others.

            “What’s up, Thomas, have a seat,” Bernard pointed to a space next to him as he scooted over closer to Josh to make room.

            “No,” Thomas said, eyes on Newt.  “Finish up.  We’ve gotta move.”

            Newt tossed his food into one of the bags in the center of the group and stood.  “Nice of you to wait for us, Thomas.”  He walked past him toward the trucks, and Thomas didn’t miss the way their shoulders just slightly clashed into each other.

            He bit down on his tongue, ignoring the way Josh and Bernard looked between them.

            “Five minutes,” was all he said before he turned to walk after Newt.

            “Hey,” Thomas said, jogging up to him.  “Hey!” He reached a hand out to Newt’s shoulder and spun him around.  “Hey, what is your problem?”

            Newt eyed him briefly before scanning their surroundings, but Thomas didn’t care who heard them. They could all probably see Newt’s attitude just as clearly.

            “Thomas, come here,” Newt grabbed his arm to pull him along, but Thomas yanked it back out of his grip.

            “No, Newt.  What the hell is going on with you?”

            Newt’s mouth was set in a line, eyes dark as he dropped his hand back to his side.

            “Thomas, do you even see yourself right now?” Newt stepped toward him, speaking in a harsh whisper.

            “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “Forget it,” Newt said, eyes scanning the others again.  “We’re not doing this now.”

            “Doing what?”  
            “This,” he gestured between the two of them.  “Get the group ready.  We’ve gotta head out.”

            Thomas swallowed his retort.  Newt was right in one thing: they had to move.  This arguing was only delaying them.  Thomas would deal with him later.

            He turned and whistled across the camp.  The group slowly formed a half circle facing him and Newt, who stood quietly just behind him.

            There was a sharp change in the air as they gathered.  Tense, anxious.  Everyone’s eyes were on the ground ahead of them.  Thomas could practically hear the heartbeats echoing against their chests.

            “Alright,” he said, his voice like a gunshot in the silence.  “Time to move out.  We’ve gone over the plan.  You’ve all had time to decide.  Who’s in?”

            “Six of us, right?” Harriet stepped forward next to Thomas.

            He nodded.  He’d counted on Harriet.  The rest, he wasn’t so sure on.

            Brenda made to move, but Jorge grasped her shoulder, stilling her. 

            “Jorge, I’m going.”

            “No, you stay here.  I’ll go.”

            “You’re twisted if you think I’m gonna sit this one out while you go off without me.”

            “You both stay,” Vince nodded.  “I’m going.  We need people here who can survive the Scorch in case…” his voice trailed off, not needed to finish his thought.

            “I’m going,” Brenda said.

            “Brenda,” Fry put a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly.  “If Thomas and Vince are both going, we need you to stay back.  We’re gonna need a leader here while we’re gone.”

            Brenda looked at him.  “We?”

            Fry dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped forward next to Thomas.  “They’ve got one of my brothers, I’m not letting two more of them out of my sight.”

            Thomas watched as Fran grasped Manny’s hand, pulling him closer to her.

            “One more,” Thomas said, scanning the group.

            Bernard stepped forward, but Josh’s hand was immediately around his wrist tugging him back.  “Bernie.”

            The boy turned around to look at him.

            “I had to fight ‘em off you once,” Josh said through gritted teeth.  “I’m not risking that again.”

            “I’ll go,” Matt stepped up.

            “Matt,” Bernard said.

            “One of us has to bring him back.”  Matt stepped up next to Harriet.

            Bernard nodded, letting himself be pulled back a bit more by Josh.

            “Tell Gunn we’re here waiting,” Josh said.  “For both of you.”

            Matt’s shoulders lifted with his inhale, a smile forming on his face.  “You act like I’m walking into my death.  Come on guys,” he turned to the rest of the group now.  “It’s only a bunch of stuck up scientists.”

            Thomas couldn’t help the smirk that snuck onto his face as he heard the collective huff of laughter from the group, a lightness to the taut air between them all.

            “You come back to us,” Joe nodded to them.  “All of you.”

            “We’ll find another car while you’re gone,” Fran offered.  “Make sure we’ve got enough room to transport everyone.”

            “Thanks,” Thomas said.  The word fell flat against the swelling in his chest, but he couldn’t begin to think of anything better just yet.  He needed to focus on what was ahead of him.

            “Frypan,” Vince said.  “You take the car. Follow me.”

            Thomas watched him nod and walk off toward the new car.  Vince headed toward his truck as the others dispersed.  Joe clasped a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, then Newt’s, before he walked off.

            “You all make it back, okay?” Brenda said to him.  “Every single one of you.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “I mean it, Thomas,” she shoved his shoulder.  “I wanna hear you say it.”

            “I’m coming back,” he managed.  “We all are.”

            “Good.”  She gave him one last look before she turned to walk off with the rest of the remaining group.

            Thomas exhaled.  “Let’s go get him back,” he said as he turned to look over his shoulder, but Newt was already gone.  He stared at the empty space where Newt had been and heard the passenger door of the car slam shut somewhere to his left.

            It was fine.  Newt could have an attitude if he wanted to.  It only meant more of a fire behind him when they’d need it most.

            “Thomas!” Vince called, walking over to him reaching into his back pocket.  “You guys take this, just in case we get separated somehow.  We shouldn’t but on the off chance it happens, you guys find your way back to camp.”

            Thomas took the folded ragged map and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. “You know I won’t do that.”

            “At least tell me you will.”

            Thomas nodded and retreated to the truck as Frypan pulled himself back out of the driver’s seat.

            “You have the keys?”

            “No, we have to hotwire.  Watch out,” he stepped around Frypan and slid into the driver’s seat.

            “You know how to hotwire?” Newt asked from the passenger’s seat.

            “Fran taught me.”

            “Oh? When was that?”

            “Newt, let me concentrate.”  Thomas heard the sigh next to him but chose to ignore it, favoring the wires in his hands. 

            There was a red wire he recognized as the battery, and the other one here…this was… this was the.. engine?  He was supposed to put these together?  He was supposed to wrap…  _Fuck!_

            “Tommy, y’alright?”

            “Newt, for god’s sa.…” his voice trailed off as he dropped his head.  He turned to Fry, standing outside of the car, leaning on the door. “Fry, can you grab Fran for me?”

            “Yeah, man.”

            He nodded his thanks and looked back down to the wires in his hand.  He  _knew_  how to do this, but he just couldn’t remember the little details of it.  That was all.  If he didn’t have so many people talking to him at once he’d be able to focus.  They had no idea what he was holding on his shoulders.  The stress of leading the entire group across The Scorch, having to save Minho, getting everyone back out and to the Safe Haven.  He had to make sure-

            “Thoma-,”

            “What?” He snapped his head to the side to look at Newt, seated in the passenger’s seat with a look of shock on his face.

            The look slowly faded into the much harsher look Newt seemed to have been sporting lately.  His mouth was somehow still set in a line as he spoke, his voice lilted in a contrasting innocence. “When did you find the car, Thomas?”

            “This morning.”

            “Right,” he furrowed his brows, nodding.  “And how did you know it was there?”

            Thomas was ready for this question though.  “The map.”

            “The map,” Newt deadpanned.

            Thomas shrugged.

            “Really, Thomas,” he continued. “Because I’ve poured over that map nearly as much as you have an-.”

            “Nearly,” Thomas repeated.

            He watched Newt’s tongue line his lip, an easy tell of the boy’s annoyance. He could see Newt contemplating his next move before he spoke. “Fine.  Give me the map.”

            Thomas blinked. “What?”

            “Show me the map.  Since I haven’t seen it as much as you, I’ve obviously missed it.  Show me.”

            “Seriously, Newt?” Thomas scoffed.

            A second later, Newt was lunging for the map in Thomas’ coat pocket, but Thomas’ hand was already moving.  He grabbed Newt’s wrist, not letting him pull it back.

            “Show me, Thomas,” Newt tried pulling his arm back again out of his grip, map in hand. 

            But Thomas’ other hand reached over now, grabbing Newt’s forearm.  He grabbed the map with his free hand and tugged.  Newt’s other hand came and tried to pry Thomas’ hand off his edge of the map. 

            “Newt, just leave it,” Thomas tried through gritted teeth, pushing the boy’s arms back.  A second later the scuffle was broken by a loud ripping sound and Thomas looked from the piece in his hand, to the other in Newt’s, another smaller piece slowly falling to the console between them.  That was it.  Their only map to The Scorch, pulled apart at its thin edges.  Useless, now.  Useless.  All because… Thomas closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose and sat back in the seat, tossing the pieces to the back seat.  “Great, Newt.  Great job.  Now no one can see anything.”

            “Oh, sod off with the shucking map, Tommy.  That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

            Thomas scoffed. “Yeah? Then why don’y you enlighten me?”

            “I’m not doing this.  You’re not yourself right now, mate.”  
            “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “Look at yourself, Thomas.  You’re running on three hours of sleep in the past two days.  You’re bleeding at the shucking hip.”

            “Newt, I’m fine,” Thomas dropped his head back to the headrest, willing his heart to stop trying to barrel its way through his chest.  If his breath would just catch up with him he’d be  _fine_.

            “You’re not fine,” Newt pushed.  “You’re lying to me left and right.”

            “I found a car, Newt.  We needed it.”          

            “Yeah, so you just went off on your own again? We’d just talked about this! I asked you not to go off on your own and you said – you  _said_ you wouldn’t.  And then like a twat you just go ahead and do it anyway.”

            “Like a what?”

            “It’s like everything we’ve talked about just goes in one ear and completely out the other without you grasping a single word anymore.  I mean what were you thinking, Thomas?”

            “I was thinking we needed a car,” Thomas sat up again.  He’d had enough of this.  “If I hadn’t gone we wouldn’t have this extra car and this plan wouldn’t even be happening.”       

            “And if you’d been attacked?”

            “I wasn’t.”

            Newt let out a small bark of a laugh, a look of disbelief on his face. “You didn’t even think about it, did you?  You didn’t think at all, Thomas.”

            Thomas felt a tick in his jaw, swallowed the fight building in his throat, threatening to spill. His eyes burrowed into Newt’s, heat behind them.  That was heat, but not only.  There was a lot behind the look they exchanged, unspoken words covered with unspoken words covered with unspoken words.  They didn’t have time for this.

            “Everything okay over here?” Fran’s voice broke Thomas out of the moment, back to the interior of the car.

            “Bloody cheery,” Newt sighed, falling back into the passenger seat, head turned, gaze out the window. 

            Thomas pulled himself from the front seat, giving Fran room to work, and got back into the backseat. Just a few more hours.  A few more hours and they’d have Minho.  A few more hours and Newt would be back to normal.

   
  


 

            It was just how he remembered it.

            In an instant, he saw flashes of blue, felt the wind of the chopper still on the sand, the tug on his arm as a guard pulled him along the sand.

            He saw Teresa, Minho, Winston, Jack.  He saw them all running ahead of him, the screams of scattered Cranks trailing them.

            “Thomas?”

            Thomas snapped back to the present, turned to see Fry with a hand on his shoulder looking at him with brow furrowed.  Just beyond him, Newt, Harriet, Matt and Vince all eyed him the same.

            “Let’s go.”

            “Thomas, you’re sure you’re good to do this?” Vince asked, brow raised.

            He responded with a tight nod.

            “Almost time,” Newt said, squinting toward the horizon.  The sun was setting quickly, the cool winds beginning to pick up around them.  The ride took hours from them, but it was necessary.  Thomas watched the moving sun the entire time, counting, counting, counting.  They needed darkness, and now the fading light rushed across the soft sand, chased by that darkness.

            “Tommy,” Newt asked. “You’re alright?”

            Thomas blinked his focus to the boy.  He wasn’t sure where the others went, when they went, but he didn’t care.  He nodded.

            “Thomas, I don’t think you shou-,”

            “Just give me a minute.”  Thomas didn’t hear what Newt said next.  That was fine.  They could talk later.  He just needed to think for a minute.

            Thomas blinked against the final rays.  The Scorch made his eyes so dry, and the heat fogged his head.  Everyone kept asking him questions, kept talking to him, kept goddamned needing answers from him.  He just needed a minute to himself to breathe, to focus. 

            He ran a hand down his face.

            He heard the gunshots before he registered what he was seeing.

 

            The guards ran back and forth firing rounds, voices muffled from beneath their scarves.  The deafening blades of the chopper behind him stirring wind and sand all around him, biting at his skin.

            “Keep moving, keep moving!”

            “Tell them take off! We’re clear!”

            The white lights seemed blue in the darkness on either side of him as he was dragged down the lane.

            “Thomas!”

            Thomas spun, felt the sand shift beneath him.  A hand grabbed his wrist and pull him upright before he sank down.  He looked up into sand goggles, a masked face.

 

            “Thomas!” Newt shouted again.

            “What?” Thomas exhaled, blinked against the darkness.  He watched as Newt’s eyes flickered between his.  Silence and a chilled breeze answered him.

            “Tommy, mate.”

            “I’m fine,” Thomas skirted around him, walked to the truck where Vince was handing the extra scarves and jackets out. He reached for one, but Vince’s arm blocked him.  “Vince?”

            Vince looked down at him with an odd look in his eyes.  “Thomas, you’re not going.”

            Thomas shook his head, sure he’d heard wrong.  “What?”

            “You heard him,” Newt said.  “You’re not going in there.”

            Thomas spun on Newt now.  “This was your idea?”

            “It was all of ours, Thomas,” Fry said softly, focused on the zipper of his coat.

            Thomas looked at all of them now, guilt written on their faces.  What the hell was happening?

            “Okay, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but now is not the time.”

            “You’re right,” Newt said, arms crossed.  “It’s not.  This isn’t for debate.  You wait here with the trucks.”

            Thomas scoffed.  “You’re kidding me, right?”  
            Newt held his gaze until he didn’t, and turned away.

            “Thomas,” Matt said.  “We’re conc-.”

            “Newt, what the hell is going on?” Thomas stepped forward toward Newt, spinning him around to face him.

            “Thomas, please.”

            “You’re not keeping me from this.  You know that.”

            Newt worked his jaw, his eyes everywhere except Thomas’.  He couldn’t even look him straight in the eye, he had to know this was stupid.

            “Newt, buddy.  What is happening?"

            “Thomas,” Vince started, but Thomas held a hand up to silence him.

            “Newt.”

            Thomas watched the boy’s jaw flicker, his arms tightened where they were crossed in front of him. “Thomas, I don’t trust you in there.”

            The wind paused, the silence packing in. 

            “You don’t trust me.”

            “That’s not what I said.”

            Thomas scoffed. “Are you kidding me?  Maybe you’re the one who should stay back, Newt.  You haven’t been on board for this plan since the beginning.”

            “What?” Newt snapped. 

            “He doesn’t know what he’s-.”

            “Slim it, Fry,” Thomas said.  “Let him try to defend himself.”

            “Thomas, get away from me,” Newt said, anger shaking his voice.

            There was a loud, echoing bang. 

            Chopper blades, screaming cranks, muffled voices…

            Thomas spun and saw Vince lowering his arm, holstering the handgun he’d just fired off.

            “What the hell was that?” Thomas asked.

            “That was to make you focus.  Get in the car with Frypan, Thomas.  Now.”

            Thomas eyed the group, swallowed.  This wasn’t happening..  They weren’t putting him on backup..  He wasn’t backup..  This was his plan..

 

           

            Thomas stared at the glove compartment. 

            “Thomas,” Frypan tried for the third time.

            “No,” was his only response the previous two times.  It seemed to be enough before, but Thomas didn’t think it was anymore.  “Fry, this makes no sense.”  He kept his eyes trained on the glove compartment.  “You know it doesn’t.”

            He heard Frypan sigh next to him.

            That was when Thomas knew he could do this.  He looked up at him, head in hands.  “Fry, you know I’m right, man.  We don’t even know Matt.  Harriet? Yeah she’s strong but she’s going in for her friends and getting out of there.  But Newt?  Newt’s going in there to rescue every single person in there.  Every single one.  He’s practically by himself if you think about it like that.”

            Frypan dropped his head back to the headrest, eyeing the rearview mirror.  Thomas didn’t dare a glance back to look at Vince’s truck.  He kept his eyes on Frypan.

            “Thomas, you-.”

            “I came up with this plan, Fry, because I knew it would work if we all worked together.  Keeping me here?  Both of us?  Letting Newt go on his own?”

            “Thomas I can’t-.”

            “Frypan,” Thomas said.  “It’s Newt and Minho.  It’s both of them, now.  And it’s just us, me and you.  Come on, Fry.”

            There was a beat of silence.

            And then Thomas was pushed against his seat, the engine revving, the tires pushing the sand out behind them as they tail spun.  Now Thomas chanced a glance backward toward Vince, the blaring horn sounding after them.  He couldn’t conceal his smile this time.  He looked over at Frypan, who looked more surprised that he was moving than anything else. 

            They soared across the sand, up the hill of the dune.  Thomas shielded his eyes at the lights as they crested it, the car lifting for a split second before landing hard down into the sand again.  The car fistailed again at the impact on the soft sand, but Fry spun the wheel quick enough for them to drift closer.  They were rolling down the hill, more of the car’s cause than Frypan’s, when Thomas finally looked up.

            The white lights shown against the sand below, almost blue in the night.  The large windows, the metal beams holding the building together, the red-lit aerial antennas on the roof.  There it was.

            Today was the day, and now was the time.

            Now.

            Now, they had to stop the car now. “Fry, now! Stop the car!”

            “I can’t, Thomas! It’s not breaking!”

            Thomas let go of the handle up top for a brief moment to try to reach for the wires below the steering wheel, but Fry had his own plans.  Thomas saw the wheel spin before he felt the impact vibrate through the car, and it was only after he’d landed in the sand that he registered the stinging in his face and arms.  He coughed the sand from his throat and looked up to see the car bent like an accordion, jackknifed against Vince’s truck.

            He heard Vince yelling, cursing, more. 

            But Thomas only looked over his shoulder at the large painted letters on the building.

            WCKD.

 

            A minute later, he was running.

 

            Forward.

            Forward.

            Around the East end of the building, just like he’d told them. 

            He skidded to a halt and Matt spun immediately, shotgun between Thomas’ eyes.

            “Thomas, what the hell are you doing?” Newt asked in a harsh whisper, lowering Matt’s gun with his hand.  

            “I’m going with you.”

            “You’re insane,” Harriet nodded.

            “Maybe,” Thomas shrugged. 

            Matt slung his shotgun over his shoulder.  “Whatever, we need to go.  The cameras are on the far back corner.  Hurry up.”

            Matt and Harriet took off jogging along the shadows of the building, but Newt held a hand to Thomas’ chest.  “Thomas get back to the truck.”

            “No, Newt,” he pushed his hand, stepping forward.  “I’m not letting you sideline me.  We do this together.”

            He watched Newt exhale a quick disagreement, but Thomas ignored it.  “Come on, Newt.”

            “Tommy, I swear it, do not go off book on me.”

            Thomas clasped a hand on Newt’s shoulder and took off running behind Matt and Harriet.

            They stopped just out of view of the cameras.  Matt eyed the ground around them and jogged off toward the side quickly, still out of view.  He kicked the sand a bit and crouched down, unearthing something before running back to them.  He briefly showed the sand-goggles to them before he tossed them into view of the camera.  The camera didn’t budge.  No blinking light came on, no whirring of a lens sounded either.

            Matt turned back and nodded once before pulling his hood up over his head.  Harriet followed suit, but Newt turned to Thomas. 

            “I take it you didn’t think to grab anything to cover yourself?”

            Thomas just shook his head.

            Newt sighed, lifting his hands to the zipper of his jacket but Thomas grabbed them, stilling them.  “Keep it.”

            “Thomas, they’re going to recognize you right away.”  He knocked Thomas’ hands aside and pulled his jacket off.  “Put it on.”  He shoved the jacket into Thomas’ arms and turned, pulling the scarf across his mouth and nose.

            Thomas pulled the jacket on as he saw Newt crouch down to retrieve the goggles, pulling them over his eyes.  Thomas suppressed a smile as he pulled the hood over his head.

 

            They passed another broken camera before Matt stopped them.  He stood in front of a metal door and reached into his back pocket before cursing.  He patted himself down quickly.

            “What is it?” Harriet asked.

            “My dagger,” he said.  “I thought I brought it."      

            “Here,” Newt reached into the side of his waistband and pulled his own out.  He tossed it to Matt.

            “Thanks.”

            Thomas watched as Matt slid the thin blade out of its sheath and slid it between the small space of the door.  He stopped suddenly, standing straight.

            “What is it now?” Harriet asked.

            Matt turned to them.  “It’s not locked.”

            Harriet turned to Thomas.  “Is that normal?”

            “I don’t know,” Thomas shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

            “What do we do?” Newt asked.

            The four of them exchanged looks before Harriet suddenly pulled the shotgun from around her shoulder into her hands and aimed it at the door.  “When I say so, turn the knob and let go immediately.”

            “What?” Matt asked.

            “Turn it and let go.  Immediately. Understood?”

            Matt looked at Thomas, but he could only shrug.

            “One…two.. _now!”_

Matt barely twisted the knob before she slammed her boot against the door, kicking it wide open and cocking the shotgun.

            Thomas felt Newt’s hand around his wrist, tugging him backward behind the wall, but no further.  There was no sound, no shotgun blast, nothing. 

            Harriet lowered her gun and eyed Thomas.  “There’s no one.”

            Thomas looked between the other two before he stepped into the doorway.  It was then that he realized there was barely even light coming from inside. As if on cue, a flashlight was pressed into his palm with a small “here, Tommy.”

            He looked back to the three of them.  “Stick close.  Weapons out.”

            Thomas led the way into the dark room, turning the flashlight on against the back of his hand to subdue the glow of it.  Slowly, he spread his fingers, letting the light flood the room, making sure no one was around.  By the time that he let the light glow fully across the room, they knew they were alone. 

            They seemed to be in a storage unit, only it didn’t store much of anything.  There were empty shelves, disconnected wires and even trash bags tied up in the corner.  Whatever this room had been used for, it was clearly not used anymore.

            Across the room was another door, leading to a dim hallway.  Thomas glanced back at them, nodded once and turned the knob.  He pushed the door open and they slowly made their way through the hall. 

            They peered into the windows of the doors as they passed the hall, but they all seemed to be the same: empty, abandoned.

            Thomas felt a tightening in his chest he couldn’t quite place, but pushed it aside. 

           

            They worked a labyrinth of empty halls for the better part of twenty minutes before Harriet stopped walking.  “We’ve been through this hallway already.”

            “No,” Matt furrowed his brow.  “Are you sure?”

            Harriet nodded to the side and Thomas found exactly what she motioned to. He had seen it too: the crack in the tile that formed a backwards ‘L.’

            “We’ve been here,” Newt repeated.

            “We haven’t been there,” Thomas nodded toward one of the doorways as he stepped toward it, lowering his hood.

            “Where does that go?” Newt asked.

            “I don’t know, but it’s worth it to find out.”

            “Is it?” Harriet asked.

            “Are they?” Thomas looked at her over his shoulder.  He took the look she gave him as an answer, and pushed the door open.  It was still dimly lit, but there was a stairwell.   Further up the stairwell, there were lights.  Along with those lights, came a small murmur of voices somewhere above them, muffled footsteps in hallways.  Thomas looked back down to them with a small smile on his face.

            Their small triumph was broken by rushed footsteps, echoing from the hall they’d just come from.

            “Thomas, move!”

            He felt himself get pulled aside by Matt before Newt’s hand was around his, pulling him against him and into the corner.  Matt crouched against the side of the stairwell and Harriet stood against the wall next to the door, both with shotguns aimed.

            Thomas listened to the footsteps getting closer, slowing to a walk now.  He felt the breath on the back of his neck, the hand gripping his at his side, the other across his chest, the heartbeat against his back.

            The door eased open and Thomas watched Harriet take one breath before Matt jumped up with a hand out telling her to hold her fire.  She lowered her shotgun as Frypan walked into the stairwell. 

            “Fry, what the hell are you doing here?” Newt asked in a harsh whisper against Thomas’ ear.

            “Saving your asses.”

            Thomas felt the huff of a laugh from Newt before it was covered by an echoing bang from above.  The five of them looked up in time to see three uniformed people run onto the landing and peer over the banister down to them.  “Who’s there?”

            There was a single beat of a pause before the five of them were scurrying back into the hallway they came from.  The footsteps pounded from above, a yell called out somewhere but Thomas was already too far ahead to hear, boots pounding on the polished floor.

            Suddenly bright lights from around the hall burst on, blue and white fluorescents.  Thomas skidded across the floor to a halt as he watched what appeared to have been a solid wall ahead slide back to reveal another hallway of stone.  He paused, contemplating their options as the others skidded to a halt behind him.

            “Thomas what do we do?” Fry asked.

            He turned toward the stairwell, two uniformed guards now entering the hallway.  “Hey! Wait right there!”

            On the other end, there was the newly opened hallway – sure to be a trap, but also sure to be a route to Minho.

            Thomas glanced back to the others once.

            “Run.”

            He took off down the hallway toward the opening, the pounding footsteps behind him the only hint that they were following him.

            “Run where?” Matt yelled.

            Thomas heard a shot fire off somewhere behind him but didn’t turn to look.  He still heard the same number of footsteps.   _He still heard the uneven footsteps._

Suddenly a blaring alarm sounded, a red light flashed into Thomas’ eyes and another wall opened somewhere in the maze.  He looked up to the tops of the tall stone.  They never seemed to end, vines weaving in and out of each oth-

            “Thomas, look out!”

            He looked back down just before Frypan crashed into him, the two of them skidding to the side down another hallway.  He looked up at the sound of electricity to see a blue light flash by exactly where he’d been running a minute ago.

            “Thomas, what the hell?”

            He let Frypan help him to his feet and the two of them continued to run down the hall.

            “Where’s Newt?” He yelled.

            “I don’t know!”

            Thomas skidded to a halt and spun to stop Fry from running.

            “Thomas, we have to go!” Fry turned to look as the guard ran toward them, lifting his shock-gun again.

            “I can’t leave him, Fry.  Where is he?”

            “Thomas! I don’t know! He’s with the others!”

            Thomas looked up in time to see the guard aim his gun at the two of them.  He pushed Fry as hard as he could away from himself and backed up in time to watch the blue shock of electricity pass between them.  The guard reloaded his gun and Thomas lunged, tackling him to the ground, the gun skidding.  He swung a fist down onto the only part of the guard he could see through the uniform: his neck.  He heard a small choked sound before he rolled off and felt Fry grip the back of his jacket and lift him up. 

            They ran back down the hall they’d come from and spun around the corner.  Thomas stopped quickly and turned to the solid wall.  It was completely solid.  There were no seams in the structure, no hint of it being the doorway he had just seen. 

            “Thomas, what are you doing? We have to go!”

            "Where'd the hallway go?"  
  
            "The what? Thomas let's go!"

            He felt Fry pull his arm and he spun around to run alongside him again. 

            They charged up the stairwell, through the door to the next floor and out into another silent hallway.  The only hints of life up here were the small rotating red lights on the walls, but no sirens accompanied them.  They paused briefly before they started walking down the hall again.

            “Thomas,” Fry breathed out.  “We have to get back.”

            “We have to get Newt,” Thomas said, barely a glance over his shoulder.  “And then we have to get Minho.”

             _And then,_  Thomas thought,  _I have to kill Ava Paige._

Her face flashed in his head from the last time he’d seen her.  Blonde hair pulled back tightly into a bun, pristine white suit. 

            Fry’s hand wrapped around his arm again, yanking him to the side behind a doorway. Thomas didn’t have to ask.  He heard the creaking of a door opening, footsteps.  Heels.  Heels echoing on the floor. 

             _Clack clack clack clack._

“Are you sure they’re here?” A man’s voice asked.

            “I just saw them on the feed.” That was a woman’s voice, but it wasn’t Ava’s. No.  He’d know her voice.

            Thomas heard them walk past the doorway, their voices and the heels trailing behind them, shadows passing and disappearing.

            “Thomas,” Fry whispered.  “We have to go.”

            “No.”  Thomas stepped out into the hall as silently as he could. 

            The sharp points of heels still echoed as they stepped down onto the floor, searching for him.  _Clack. Clack. Clack. Metal whirring._

            He willed the smell of damp moss away.

            If they couldn’t get to Minho through the stairs, maybe they could climb.

            He looked up the long strands of ivy along the stone wall.  He reached out to grab one, but his arm was tugged back.

            “Thomas, what the hell?” Frypan whispered, spinning him around.

            He blinked at Frypan, the sweat visible on his face in the lights of the hallway.

            “We have to get them.”

            “They didn’t come up here, Thomas.”

            “You don’t know that.”

            “Freeze!”  There was a slight whirring, a build-up of a charge, and Thomas turned in time to see the man pull the trigger, expelling an electric shock. 

            Thomas grabbed Fry’s jacket as he dropped to the floor, just under the bolt.   _Twice in twenty minutes.  He was getting too lucky._

            “The stairs!” He yelled, pulling Fry back up with him.  They skidded around the corner of the hallway and back toward the stairwell, but another two guards were coming onto the landing.

            “Thomas, in here!” Frypan pulled his jacket in through a set of double doors down another empty hallway.  Thomas was thankful it was so empty of guards, but he couldn’t help the nagging question in the back of his mind:  _If they were keeping Minho and the others here, why was the place so deserted?_

He didn’t allow himself to answer the question.  Couldn’t accept it. 

            “Stop them!”

            Thomas spun at Ava’s voice, but it wasn’t her.  It was a younger doctor with brown hair, pointing a finger and snapping at a guard, comm radio gripped in her hand.

            “Fry over here!” It was his turn to pull Frypan through a door on the side, nearly falling down the stairwell at the speed they were going.  They jumped the last few steps as they heard the guards barrel through the door behind them. 

            Thomas jumped another set of stairs, stumbling a bit and catching the wall for balance.

            “Thomas, come on,” Fry pulled him forward through a door and down into the labyrinth hallway again.

            They made a sharp right and sprinted down the hall, footsteps barreling behind them.  Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, willing the image of the run-down mall out of his head.   _Minho_. He was here for Minho.  He had to find him.

            But there were too many Cranks coming at him.  He couldn’t fight them all off again.  No,  _no_. They weren’t Cranks. They were guards. Scientists. They were from WCKD. And they were coming right toward him.

            “Thomas, don’t stop!” Fry pulled him backward – no  _forwards._  When did he turn around?

            They turned the corner and ran smack into Ava Paige.  He tripped around her and fell to the floor sliding a few feet.

            “Sub basement! Sub basement!” She called into the walkie talkie in her hand.  "Confirmed A3!"

            He looked up at the young scientist holding Fry’s arms back as he tried wrestling from her grip.

            “Thomas!”

            “Guards!”

            Thomas looked from the scientist to Fry.  When he looked back at her, he saw Ava again.  It was Ava Paige.  The white lab coat, white pants.  Everything far too white against the dark sky, the sand.  It was far too clean.  Too neat.

            Thomas blinked and he was standing, legs shaking.

            A slow, slurred movement while she called out again for a guard.  It all happened so slowly.  Too slowly.

            He saw Frypan duck his head, just as slowly.

            Everything was so slow.  Too slow.

 

            Until it wasn’t.

 

            In a flash, he was arching an arm back.

            The next, it was covered in warm, stickiness.  Griever slime.  It was all over Ava’s suit dripping from her neck around the hilt of the dagger.

            She coughed, sputtered, gargled.

            It came out of her mouth, dripping, running down her skin.

            Her hands gripped her neck, trying to hold it in.

            It was too much. There was too much.

            Thomas breathed in the smell of rust.

            Exhaled on a sob.

 

            His gaze slid down her stained white coat, the pants, to his own hands.

            Covered.

            Covered in it.

 

            But Griever slime wasn’t red.

 

            Stained.

            Shaking.

 

            He was yanked backward by his jacket before she even hit the floor.

 

            A blur of blonde hair, but this time is wasn’t Ava.

 

            There was yelling, his name.

            His name.

            _His_ name.

 

            The accent.

 

            There were hands on either side of him, dragging him down the hall.

            Away from Chuck’s body.

             _No._

            Away from Ava’s body.

             _No, Thomas_.

            Away from the young scientist’s body.

 

            Away, away, away.

 

            Here it was.

            Thomas knew this room.  The Loading Bay.

            Only, it wasn’t as he remembered it.  The lights were down.  There were no longer bergs stationed here.

 

            Instead there was a truck.  A shotgun firing off from back of it, echoing across the high ceilings.

 

            There was vinyl beneath Thomas. 

            Something cold, wet across his face.

            A command for him to  _drive, drive, drive._

              
            No, not him. 

 

            The truck was roaring across the sand.

            Over the crest of a dune.

 

            Off through the night.

 

            “Thomas look at me.”

            That accent.

            “Tommy!”

            He looked up and was suddenly aware of Newt’s hands on either side of his face.  His eyes flickering between Thomas’.

            “Tommy say something!”

            Thomas took a breath, but gagged.  Rust.  Rust.  Rust.

            He looked down.  All over his hands.  Rust. Slime.

             _Those things aren’t red_ , he told himself.

            Something cold was dragged against his face again as the shotgun stopped firing off from the truck.

            “It was Ava,” Thomas choked out.  “I mean. A scientist.”

            “What?”

            “Newt,” Thomas breathed.  He looked up to him again.  He choked out another sob.  “I…”

            Immediately, Newt’s hands were on his shoulders, spinning him where they sat in the backseat. Thomas let himself be pulled backward against Newt’s chest.  He felt the way Newt’s arms wrapped around him, pinned his own down at his sides so he couldn’t see his hands any longer.

            “Newt,” he choked out.  A shallow breath.  Rust,  _fuck_ it was everywhere.

            “Shh, Tommy, it’s okay.  It’s okay.”

 

            Thomas felt his head fall backward onto Newt’s shoulder and there, beneath the overwhelming scent of rust, was the reminder of rain on grass, of morning dew in the Glade.

 

            “It’s okay, Tommy.  It’s okay.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. See: alternate title
> 
>  
> 
> See you guys Sunday. :]


	11. On Forgiveness and Firelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Listens Instead of Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: brief mention of violence, prior gun violence, prior instances of killing

 

 

            The darkness faded.

            No. It wasn’t fading.  It was getting brighter. 

            He was waking up.

 

            Vinyl and moss snuck into his system as he inhaled. Mint.

            There was warmth around him, a soft weight around his side.

 

            A small, warm breeze flitted down the back of his neck. 

            No.  It wasn’t a breeze.  It was a breath.

            He rose and fell with the solid weight behind him.

            Rose and fell.

            Rose and fell.

            Rose an…

 

***

 

            His eyes opened this time as a shadow passed.  The truck rolled on beneath him as he watched the sky pass by out of the back window of the truck.  His legs extended across the backseat. He felt the solid weight behind him still, the smaller weight on his side.  His eyes moved just enough to see the arm wrapped around him, resting just above his hip, on top of the maroon jacket that was draped over him.

            Moss and mint. 

            He rose and fell.

            Rose and fell.

            Rose an…  
  
  
***  
  
  
            There were stars above them against the dark sky.  The truck was no longer moving, but Newt was. Slow, even breaths behind him.  Thomas looked down at the hand still resting casually around his side.

            His eyes fluttered closed again.

  
  
***

  
  
            When Thomas woke up, the truck was parked.  Sunlight filtered in through the window. There was something soft behind him keeping him propped up, but it wasn’t moving.  There was no warmth to it. 

            Thomas closed his eyes, but a minute or two later opened them again.  His body was done sleeping and the minute he realized that, he fully woke up.  His eyes were open now, head clearing of the last hints of fog.  He pushed himself to sit up, the maroon jacket falling a bit from him.  He grabbed it as he turned in the seat to sit normally and put it on the bench next to him, next to the pile of jackets and knapsacks that seemed to act as a stand-in for Newt while the boy was gone. 

            Gone.

            Thomas rubbed his eyes with his fingers, a yawn escaped and he blinked out of the front windshield at the bright sun.  Ahead of him was a tall building he didn’t recognize, half of a broken clock taking up most of it that was still standing.  When Thomas turned to the direction of Cornell’s, he saw it wasn’t there.  They weren’t in that town anymore, then.

            He looked out of the window next to him and caught sight of everyone scattered about the area.  They were parked off the road near yet another broken-down building, although it seemed to be the sturdiest of them all.

            More important than the building, was the group sitting in front of it.  Thomas took a shaky breath and then another, nodded to himself, and pushed the door open.  The sun was harsh, but there was a hint of a breeze and he pulled the hood of his jacket up around his neck a bit more.  It was only then he realized he was still wearing Newt’s jacket from the WCKD facility.

            Newt sat in the small circle in front of the building with his back turned toward Thomas.  Thomas took another shaking breath and walked forward toward them, stopping about a foot away.

            “Hey, Thomas,” Bernard waved as he approached, but Thomas barely glanced at him.  He just looked at Newt who glanced quickly at Bernard and then turned to look up at Thomas.

            “Tommy,” he said, his voice light, surprised even. 

            Thomas could feel the shift in the group, the silence, but he pushed it aside.  His focus was on Newt.  His focus was on what needed to be said.

            Thomas’ heart picked up against his will, his leg bouncing where he stood, his throat tight as he tried to speak.  It took a minute before the words actually came out, and when they did they were in a soft, low jumble.  “Heycanwetalk?” 

            Newt’s eyes didn’t leave him, even though the others all dropped their gazes to each other or their hands.  Newt’s eyes only flickered between his own, reading him.  Finally, he responded, just as quietly.  “Yeah, Tommy.”

            Thomas nodded, swallowing against the rock in his throat.  He finally tore his gaze from Newt when he was standing and walking toward him.

 

            This town was different from the last one.  The buildings were taller here, albeit still run down and neglected.  The silence wasn’t as pressing as the last one.  Once in a while, as they walked, they would see someone else walking down an alleyway or inside of a building.  Still, they walked on.

            They passed a broken wooden pole, wires hanging limply from it, torn cables.  There was another car, paint chipped worse than the one Thomas had found, both back tires flattened, window smashed in.

            Another pair passed them, wrapped in towels.  Thomas gave barely a glance in their direction.  They seemed to walk in silence, too.  It was odd to see people wandering these towns.  They’d gone so long with seeing no one, especially in the last town.  This one seemed to have people staying in it, and Thomas couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or not.  Couldn’t spare the focus for it.  His focus was solely on the boy next to him, keeping pace.

            When Thomas couldn’t take it anymore, he stopped.  Newt stopped next to him and, though Thomas kept his gaze ahead on the horizon, he could feel Newt’s on him.  They stood there for a few minutes.  Thomas’ head spun.  He didn’t even know where to begin.

            Newt let out a small chuckle next to him. “This has been a lovely tour, Tommy, bu-,”

            “I’m sorry.”

            Thomas was finally able to look at him now as he tried to keep his breathing steady around a pounding heart. 

            Newt nodded, brows turned up.  There was a look on his face Thomas couldn’t place.  He hoped it was understanding, that it was forgiveness.  He hoped it was a lot of things.

            “It’s alright, Tommy.”

            “No,” Thomas shook his head, looking down at his boots, digging a heel in the sand below him trying to keep his leg from bouncing.  He looked back up to Newt finally.  “It’s not.”

            Newt took a small, slow step forward.  If Thomas hadn’t been looking at him, he wouldn’t have even known he’d moved.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas shook his head.  He didn’t need Newt to tell him it was okay.  He needed Newt to listen. 

            Newt closed his mouth, kept his eyes on him.

            Thomas looked back down to the line in the sand his boot had started marking as he shifted it back and forth.  He watched it move forward and back again, digging deeper.  Back and forth.

            He stilled his leg and looked up again at the horizon, taking a breath.  Where was he even supposed to begin?  He could barely remember anything.  All he knew was waking up with an ache in his chest, something gone wrong.  He pulled a hand from his pocket and ran it down his face, let it drop to his side.  Ran his tongue across his lips, but still no words came.  Only shaking breaths, accompanied by his goddamn bouncing leg moving almost as fast as his heart.

            “I don’t…” he swallowed. Tried again.  “I only know flashes.  Small parts.”  He was sure nothing he said was making sense, but he could see Newt in the corner of his eye, nodding, watching him.

            “I saw Ava,” Thomas hated the way his voice shook, his leg shook.  His hand curled into a fist, trying to keep steady.  “I thought I did,” he corrected himself.  “And I-,” he choked on the word, uncurled his hand, willing the memory of the blood to disappear.

            He saw Newt step only a little closer.  A hint of a movement.

            “I didn’t mean…” Thomas could feel it bubbling up in his chest again.  This wasn’t even supposed to be what he was talking about.  This was supposed to be about Newt.  About him and Newt.  About apologizing.  About acting rashly, about lying, about putting them all in danger.  Not about Matt’s dagger buried hilt deep into someo-

            He choked, a sob bursting from his chest.

            “Hey,” Newt’s voice was soft, just above a whisper at his side.  Thomas felt knuckles brush against his in two light taps.  Something about this was comforting for him, though he didn’t quite know what was meant behind it.

His breathing slowed a bit at the touch, calming.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to move past this until he said it though, he needed it out of him.  He steadied himself.  “Newt,” he turned to look at him now.  “I killed someone.”

            The words struck something inside of him.  Saying them out loud was a different experience altogether.  He’d known it, as a concept. As an incident.  He hadn’t let himself think the words, let alone say them.  But now, saying them, letting them have a voice and solidity to them.  It made it that much more real.

            And Newt only watched him, eyes flicking between his eyes.

            Thomas’ chest tightened slowly, but stopped when Newt finally spoke.

            “You saved Frypan, Thomas,” Newt said, eyes set on Thomas’.  “Don’t forget that.”

            “Yeah, but I-,”

            “You did what you had to do,” Newt insisted.  “Thomas, it was either letting him get taken, you both getting taken, or making that move.  You did what anyone would have done in that situation.”

            Thomas shook his head, eyes back to the sand.  “I don’t even… I can’t even remember it, Newt.  Any of it.  It just all blends together.”

            “Hey,” Newt gave his hand a small shake, and it was only then that Thomas shifted his eyes, noticed Newt had been holding his fingers in his own.  “Tommy, hey.”

            With his free hand, Newt lifted Thomas’ head lightly, their eyes locked now.  Newt offered him a small smile.  Though Thomas knew he was supposed to mirror it, he couldn’t. Newt’s hand moved from below Thomas’ chin to the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. Grip loose, but solid.  “Can I share something with you?”

            Thomas nodded.

            “Alright,” Newt tugged Thomas’ fingers downward.  “Why don’t we sit, yeah?”

            Thomas let Newt lightly pull him down to the sand.  He looked down the road from where they came and then up toward where they’d been walking before he turned to look at Newt, sitting cross-legged in front of him now.  A mirror. “Did you… should we move off to the side somewhere?”

            “What, to avoid all the traffic rolling through here?” Newt smirked, and even Thomas felt his lips turn slightly upward.  Newt’s smirk widened over his teeth.  “There’s that smile.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze, but the smile stayed.  He didn’t focus on why it did.  Part of him already knew.  Had known for a while.  He glanced once more at his fingers, still resting in Newt’s hand.  “What did you want to share?”

            Newt’s shoulders rose with the deep breath, his eyes slid downward.  “I don’t even remember what they looked like.  Any of them.”

            Thomas was practically still, breath quiet.  As Newt spoke, his thumb turned circles over Thomas’ knuckles, and Thomas couldn’t even tell if Newt realized he was doing it.  His gaze was on their fingers, yes, but Newt’s eyes were glazed over in some memory.  He wasn’t watching their hands, he was watching something else.

            “I don’t even know how many there were.  There might’ve been three or four.  There might’ve only been one.”  He swallowed.  “There might have been more.”

            Another circle.

            “All I could hear was Vince yelling next to me, asking to cover him.  It was my first shot, Tommy.  My first shot with that bloody shotgun.  I held that scope up to my eye and just…” Newt exhaled a small shiver.  “I didn’t even see the guard hit the ground before I was aimed on the next one.  But, Thomas, I heard Fry saying he was out of ammo somewhere behind me and before I knew it I was firing off rounds again.  It wasn’t even a conscious thought.”

            Thomas let the pause in Newt’s words wash over them.  Part of Thomas could remember this.  Could remember Newt going down when that electric-grenade went off in the back of the truck.  Watching him fall hard to his knees, shotgun in hand.

            He never thought what had happened before.

            “Newt…”

            “It’s okay, Tommy.” Newt’s eyes cleared from the memory as he looked back up at him now.  “I’ve made my peace with it.  You will, too.  It’s always gonna be a part of you, but that doesn’t mean it has to own you.”

            Thomas looked back to the floor between them, the small slit of sand-covered road.

            “Thomas, a lot happened over those two days.  You’ve been stressed, exhausted, hungry.  Your head wasn’t on right.”

            “That’s not an excuse.”

            “No, it’s not,” Newt said.

            Something about hearing Newt say it stung Thomas deep in his chest.

            “You said and did a lot of messed up things, Thomas.  I’m not in the business of lying to you, you know that.”

            Thomas nodded, eyes still fixed on the ground.

            “But that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize. Or that I can’t forgive you.”

            Thomas looked up at him now.  “Do you?”

            “Forgive you?”

            Thomas didn’t answer, couldn’t.  His breath was held and even his heart took a break from its pounding.

            “Tommy, I’m always gonna forgive you.  No matter how buggin’ stupid y’are.”  He reached forward, pushing his fist against Thomas’ shoulder, smile on his face.

            “Even if I don’t deserve it?”

            Newt’s eyes tightened along with his grasp on Thomas’ fingers.  “It’s not on you to decide what you do and don’t deserve from me.”

            Thomas swallowed, thankful he was sitting, sure he would have buckled under Newt’s gaze had he been standing.

            “Tommy, this stress you’ve been putting yourself under, you’re taking it all on your shoulders.  But it’s like you forget that I’m here. That Fry’s here.  All of us.  We’re in this together.”

            A laugh bubbled up from inside of Thomas somewhere and Newt gave him an odd look.  “Sorry,” Thomas laughed. “I just… you’ve said something like that to me before.  About us all having each other.”

            It was Newt’s turn to laugh now as he spoke.  “And of course you didn’t listen to me then, either.”

            Thomas smiled.  “Yeah, I’ve gotta work on that.”

            “Don’t work on it alone.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “I mean it, Tommy.  I never wanna see you like that again.  I’ve seen Grievers and Cranks and Janson’s shuck-face, and nothing’s scared me quite like seeing you disappear in front of me.”

            Thomas smiled, eyes stinging.  He nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t be able to hold back the threat of breaking.  Instead, he let the silence settle between them again until his chest loosened again.  “How long was I asleep, anyway?”

            Newt snorted.  “Three days.”

            Thomas nearly choked.  “ _Three days_? You let me sleep _three days_? Newt, we’ve gotta go.

            “Thomas.” Newt’s grip tightened on his fingers. Hard, but still gentle.  “Take a breath.”

            Thomas tried to still his heartbeat as it sped up again.  _Three days_.  He didn’t remember any of the time passing.  Only bits and pieces waking up in the truck. 

            He looked up at Newt now.

            Every time he’d woken up, he was leaning against Newt, the boy’s arm around him.  Had he been there the full three days?

            Newt cleared his throat, shifting, and Thomas dropped the thought.

            “I know you’re worried about Minho.  I am, too.  We’re all sort of lost at the moment,” Newt shrugged.  “Matt, Harriet.  Not really sure where to go from here.  But we’re not giving up.  It just means we need to reevaluate, start over.”

            “Maybe you should take over,” Thomas said to the horizon.

            “No, we’ve been over this.”

            “Maybe one of the others, then.”

            “Thomas,” Newt tugged his fingers again.  “They trust you, despite the hiccup.  You’d know that if you stopped worrying so much about the time and came back down to the present.  Talk to them, Thomas.  Listen to them.  We’ve all got stories, Tommy.”

            “There’s still time to make it a good one, right?” Thomas said, recalling Newt’s words from just a week or so ago.

            Newt smiled at him.  “Good bits and all that.”

            Thomas let loose a breath, chest loosening.  Newt was right, it was time he started focusing on those good bits.  Starting with the ones that were right in front of him.

 

***

 

            When they reached camp, the sun was setting in the distance and Jorge and Josh were building a fire.  Thomas heard an exchange of Spanish in mumbled annoyance as the flame went out.

            “Mind if we join?” Newt said, already sitting next to Fry on the ground.

            “Please!” Brenda said.  “If either of you can get this fire going, it’d be a Godsend.  These two idiots can’t seem to do anything right.”

            “Watch your language,” Jorge said over his shoulder.

            “You said like, seven curses in Spanish. Just cuz I don’t speak it doesn’t mean I can’t understand it, _hermano_.”

            “That was all Josh. I don’t curse.”

            A chorus of laughs overrode Josh’s bark of defense.

            “Okay _that’s_ bullshit,” Brenda laughed.  She reached over and held out a small canteen toward Newt.  “Thomas sit.”

            He crouched down and fell back into a small spot between Newt and Manny. 

            “How’re you doing, Thomas?” Harriet asked across the circle, munching on some snack.

            Thomas nodded.  “Good.”

            “You look good,” Fran said.

            “Still think he looks like shit,” Harriet shrugged.

            Another round of laughter went around the circle and even caught up to Thomas.  “Thanks, Harriet.  You look good enough for the both of us, don’t worry.”

            “I wasn’t.”

            Newt took one of the baby dehydrated carrots from Fry’s palm and chucked it across the circle at her shoulder.

            “Hey!” She flung one back at him, and Thomas watched as Newt arched his neck to the side, catching it in his mouth.  He winked at her, chewing, and a warmth filled Thomas’ chest.

            “Alright!” Jorge clapped.

            Thomas looked to the middle of the circle where the fire started to come to life.

            “Thank God,” Bernard muttered, dropping the towel he’d been using as a blanket.

            “ _Recuerda eso para luego_ ,” Josh winked over him.

            Jorge coughed as he took a seat next to Vince.  “Thomas,” he said.  “Glad to see you up and about. I was getting nervous for a bit there.”

            “Nervous?”

            “Yeah,” Brenda said. “Your little coma in the truck.”

            “Oh,” Thomas said taking the canteen from Newt.  “Yeah.”  He took a sip, thankful to have something to do, and then immediately spit it back out.

            He heard Newt’s laughter next to him joined by everyone else’s.

            “What the hell is that?”

            “It’s good is what it is,” Matt said, gesturing for him to pass it over.  Thomas gladly passed the canteen.

            “Still a lightweight, huh?” Newt laughed.

            Thomas shook his head, trying to shake the taste out of his mouth.

            “Man, it’s better than Gally’s brew,” Fry laughed.

            “I don’t know,” Newt shrugged. “I rather enjoyed it.”

            “Yeah, too much sometimes.”

            “Oh, bugger off.”

            “Wait, what?” Josh laughed.  “I need to hear a drunk Newt story.  Immediately.”

            Thomas looked across the circle at Josh.

            “No, nobody needs to hear that,” Newt shifted next to Thomas.

            “Actually, I think I do,” he spoke up, looking at Newt now.

            Frypan barked a laugh somewhere to the right of Newt.

            “Come on, Newt,” Joe laughed.  “’Fess up.”

            Newt sighed, his head in his hands.

            “I’ve got this,” Fry started.

            “I bet you do,” Newt mumbled through a laugh.

            Frypan rubbed his hands together.  “Gally – he was this friend in our Glade – he used to try different experiments with drinks.  Anyway, one of the days he made it, Newt didn’t realize that Gally had been experimenting a bit heavier.”  He laughed again as Newt mumbled something under his breath.

            “So,” Fry continued.  “It’d been a pretty rough day.  Newt just got back from helping the track-hoes from some issure or another.”

            “Zart,” Newt offered. “The cactus.”

            “Oh, god that’s right!” Fry laughed again at some other story.

            “A cactus?” Matt asked.

            “Yeah, Fry, tell ‘em that story,” Newt elbowed him.

            “No, no,” Thomas laughed. “I wanna hear this one.”

            Newt turned to Thomas now, a look on his face that so clearly said _I will kill you._

“I’m collecting good bits,” Thomas shrugged.

            Newt ran his tongue against his teeth in pure annoyance, but his smile betrayed him.

            “So Newt, right?” Frypan continued to the circle. “Boy comes into the kitchens, sweatin’ somethin’ crazy.  Like he’d be running for three days straight.”

            Bernard snorted across the circle, but Thomas didn’t have time to look at him, too busy focused on the middle finger Newt offered the boy.  He filed that away for later questioning.

            “He’s talkin’ a mile a minute, pacing in circles.  He finally reaches for one of the mason jars on the table that I’d drank from to try it.  I, being a good friend, snatched it away.” Fry paused, nodding, letting the others appreciate how good of a friend he was.

            “Go ahead,” Newt gestured to him. “Tell ‘em the rest.”

            “So, Newt spins around still looking for something to drink.  I didn’t realize another one was on the table.”

            “Oh you _didn’t realize_?” Newt laughed, brows raised.

            “Okay, well,” Fry shrugged. “I also thought you needed something to calm yourself.”

            “And you thought that would calm me?”

            “I mean, it stopped your pacing.”

            “It stopped everything!” Newt’s voice nearly cracked, rising.

            “Shut up,” Harriet threw another carrot at him. “Let him tell the story.”

            “No, he’s gonna leav-.”

            Thomas didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly his hand was around Newt, covering his mouth, pulling him back from Fry.  “Go ahead, Fry. I wanna hear this.”

            Newt tossed his arms up in defeat, leaning back into Thomas.  Thomas kept his hand over Newt’s mouth. Just in case.

            “So he grabs this other mason jar right? Boy straight _chugs_ it.  I’m talkin’ down to the wire.”

            “No fuckin’ way,” Brenda laughed, leaning forward to look at Newt.

            Newt slowly shook his head against Thomas’ shoulder, rolling his eyes.

            “And _then_ it didn’t even hit him for like another five minutes or whatever. So he’s still goin’ on talking about this stupid cactus and suddenly he-,” Fry’s story was interrupted as his laughter finally took over.

            “Oh my god, Frypan, come on!” Harriet laughed.

            “I… hang on…” Frypan breathed between laughs.

            Thomas looked down at Newt, who arched his head to look up at him. He rolled his eyes again and Thomas smiled down.

            “Okay, okay,” Frypan wiped his tears, catching his breath. “He just falls over into the table right? And like. It was like if you hold a tray and just slowly tilt it and watch the food slowly slide down the side.  I swear it was in slow motion.”

            “Oh god,” Brenda laughed.

            “Wait!” Frypan held up a hand. “It gets better!  I shove a cup of water in his hand and food at him.  He takes it and _dumps it on Dan’s head and tells him he was too hot._ ”

            Newt’s hand flung up to his face, hiding himself.

            “Wait, what?” Joe laughed. “Was that you trying to hit on him?”

            The circle laughed, someone made a comment on Newt being smooth, but Thomas stopped listening.  He could only focus on Newt leaning back into him, his own hand on Newt’s mouth, Newt’s face slowly burning red beneath his hand.

            Thomas was sure his heart was hammering beneath his chest.  He tried to focus back on the circle again.

            “Did he respond?”

            “What did you say after?”

            “What did _Dan_ say after?”

            But the only question Thomas could think to ask was _who was Dan?_

            “It’s okay, Newt,” Harriet laughed. “You should’ve heard the first time I met Sonya.”

            “Please,” Newt mumbled beneath Thomas’ hand.

            He pulled his hand from Newt’s mouth, and let it rest over his shoulder instead, suddenly very unsure of what to do with it.

            “Please,” Newt repeated dropping his hand from his face. “Please take over story time.”

            Harriet laughed, and before she started, Thomas leaned down briefly to whisper quietly in Newt’s ear, smiling.  “We’ll get back to that later.”

            Thomas could have sworn he felt Newt’s heart stop, and his smile grew even wider as he tapped his fingers on Newt’s collarbone.

            “I mean, she came into the Spring, right? And she was gorgeous. I mean, you all saw her.  Blonde hair, brown eyes.”

            Thomas swallowed, kept his eyes on Harriet and very much _not_ on the blonde haired, brown eyed boy still leaning against him.  He was suddenly very aware of the amount of people around the circle, but no one seemed to be focused on them.

            “So she gets her name back and me and Ximena are going through the motions, you know? Getting her settled.  She comes up to me later that day and asks what hammock she could have.  I told her she could have mine, like you know, take this one, I’ll find a new one.”  The circle nodded collectively.  “Except that’s not what I said. I told her to _share_ mine.”

            Brenda barked a laugh and Thomas snorted.

            “Wait,” Fry laughed. “Like you told her to sleep in your hammock with you?”

            “I didn’t realize I’d said it until she said _okay_.”

            Another eruption of laughter rippled through the circle then, before Vince stood and announced it was time he went to bed.  “I’m surrounded by you teenagers enough during the day.  Don’t need to hear these stories,” he laughed.  “Goodnight all.”

            “Good point,” Manny nodded.  “I’m also out.”

            “We should probably turn in soon,” Joe nudged Fran.  She looked down at Ian, bundled in her arms.

            “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

            “Come on,” Joe stood and held a hand down to help her up.  “We can share a hammock.” He dodged a baby carrot as the circle laughed again.

            “Don’t laugh, drunkie,” Harriet nodded to Newt.  “At least I came out on top in my story.”

            Matt choked on the drink in his hand and Newt dropped his head back onto Thomas’ shoulder. “Thanks, Fry.”

            “There was another time I snuck Gally’s brew into a spongecake I made.”

            “Stop.”

            Frypan laughed at Newt. “Don’t worry, no more drunk Newt stories.

            Thomas tapped on Newt’s collarbone again. “I’ll have to hear that one later, too.”

            “No you don’t,” he laughed.

            “Good bits, Newt.”

            “Trust me, they’re not good bits. They’re embarrassing bits.”

            “They’re cute bits.”

            Thomas’ heart did a full stop, caught in his throat.  _What the fuck was that, Thomas???_

He kept his eyes across the circle as Bernard started telling a story, but he didn’t hear a word the boy said.  All he heard was his own heartbeat in his ears.

 

            The stories continued as the moon rose above them, stars shining down upon the shanty town.  Frypan was telling a story about some game they used to play in the Glade called Squares.  Something about a bat and a moonwalk and hopping along bases that ended up once in a pile up of half of the Gladers while Alby hit a ball far across the fields.

            It made Thomas thinking about this time in their lives.  Back in the Glade before he arrived.  In an odd way, Newt had been a part of this world longer than Thomas had been.  Has more memories than he had.  Three years’ worth of memories Thomas didn’t have, would never have.  It was almost as if he didn’t exist then.  It felt like he didn’t.

            He felt a small nudge to his ribs then and he bought his focus back to the circle to see that the story had changed to Aris getting punched in the face in order to remember his name when he arrived in the Spring.

            Newt spoke quietly to Thomas while she went on.  “How ya doin’, Tommy. I can see the wheels spinning.” 

            Thomas looked down at him and shook his head.  “I’m okay.” And then corrected himself.  “I’m good, Newt. I’m really good.”

            “I can tell when you’re lying, y’know.”

            “I’m not lying,” Thomas laughed. “I’m serious.”

            “I know,” Newt smiled softly up at him.  “I can tell when you’re not lying too.”

            There was a moment here, as they looked at each other, that Thomas was suddenly very aware of the others around them. Newt broke their gaze then and settled against Thomas a bit more, getting comfortable. 

            Thomas looked around the circle to see Bernard lying down, head in Josh’s lap as he slept.  Matt had moved next to Harriet now, the two continuing to share stories.  Brenda and Fry seemed to be deep in a conversation regarding driving.

            Something in Thomas kept nagging at him, pushing.  He gave in.  “So about this Dan kid.”

            “No, Tommy,” Newt laughed against him.  “No more Dan stories.”  
            Something twisted in Thomas’ chest, hearing Newt say the boy’s name now, but he tried to push it down.

            “No more Dan stories, because there are no more Dan stories,” Newt clarified.  He suddenly pulled himself up from leaning on Thomas and slowly laid himself back down on the floor, facing the sky.  “I drank a pint of Gally’s brew in nearly one swig.  Said some dumb klunk.  Moved on.” 

            Thomas looked over his shoulder down at him.  “I wasn’t making fun of you for it,” he shrugged. “Though, you definitely could have been a bit smoother.”

            Newt pulled himself up swiftly, grabbed the back of Thomas’ jacket and pulled him down to lie on the sand next to him.

            Thomas let himself settle next to Newt, eyes on the stars above them against the dark blue sky.

            “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Newt said.  “I should’ve complimented his muscles while tearing the sleeves from his shirt.”

            Thomas turned his head to look at him but Newt’s eyes were closed, smirk on his face.  “I was trying to make you feel better.”

            “Goodnight, Tommy,” Newt said through his smirk.

            Thomas laughed, turning back up to the stars.  “Night, Newt.”

 

            The sun was just cresting the horizon when Thomas blinked himself awake.  A rose pink was just beginning to blossom over the fading night sky and the snores of the others were still around him.  He turned to his right to see Newt wrapped up within his maroon jacket, and it was only then that Thomas noticed the white tattered blanket that was around him.  He looked back at the breathing cocoon next to him.

            Just a bit past Newt, Thomas could see Joe inside the driver’s seat of his truck, fiddling with the radio again.  He lifted himself up, piled the blanket on top of Newt, and walked over to Joe, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

            “Thomas,” Joe greeted him.  “Morning.  You’re up early.”

            “I slept fine, don’t worry.”

            “I didn’t think otherwise.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to comment, but couldn’t quite figure out how. 

            “He was worried about you, you know?” Joe said, shuffling through the box of wires in the passenger’s seat. 

            “Newt?”

            “Mhm,” he nodded, untangling two of the wires.  “Even if he hadn’t said it, I could have see it a mile away.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “He looked how I probably did when I thought I’d lost Fran.”

            Thomas scratched the back of his neck.  “I…” He trailed off, not know what to say.  What Joe was even saying. “She fixed up your leg real good,” he gestured to it.

            Joe looked up and Thomas with a funny look on his face before he looked down, eyeing his leg. “Yeah, she’s always been good at that stuff.  Her aunt was a nurse and would take every opportunity to teach them all everything she knew.  How to care for wounds, stitch them up.  All that.”  Joe finally pulled the two wires apart and eyed the ones hanging from the beneath the steering wheel. He eyed them before he sat up again sighing, tossing the wires aside.  “Nurse _and_ a mechanic.  How’d I get so lucky?” he laughed.

            Thomas smiled down at him.  “I’m glad you found each other again.”

            Joe’s smile was wide.  “Thomas when I saw her sitting in that circle with you guys my heart stopped.  Full stop.  Thinking someone you love is gone and then seeing them there alive?  I never realized that part of me was even still hopeful anymore.”  Joe reached up and pressed his fingers to his eyes.  “I think,” he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.  “When this is all over, when we’re in the Safe Haven, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

            Thomas felt his heart tighten, hope blossom.  “I think when this is all done, we’ll need something to celebrate.  I can’t imagine anything better than that.”

            Joe smiled up at him.  “Me neither, Thomas.”

            A low rumbling sounded then, growing louder, growing closer.  Thomas watched Joe’s smile clear as they held each other’s gaze.

            “What is that?” Thomas asked.

            “We’ve gotta move. Now.” Joe stood, tossing the wires to the ground.  “Get the others, get in the building.”

            “What?” Thomas’ heart picked up as he spun jogging to keep up with Joe’s strides. “Joe what is that?”

            “It’s a berg, Thomas,” he barely turned to him.  “Everyone up! Get up, we gotta move!” he jogged forward toward Jorge’s truck, calling out to them all.

            Thomas skidded to his knees next to Newt as the boy wrestled to detangle himself from the blanket.  “Come on, Newt,” Thomas pulled the blanket from him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.  He turned to Frypan and shook him awake as Newt woke Matt and the others.

            “Let’s go!” Joe’s voice called out around them as he jogged over, arm around Fran with Ian bundled in her arms.  Manny and Jorge jogged behind him, shotguns around their shoulders. 

            “Where’s Vince?” Thomas asked, pulling Brenda up.

            “Here, Thomas, let’s go,” Vince waved him over toward the building, holding the door open.

            Thomas spun round again, eyes scanning.

            “Tommy, come _on_ ,” Newt grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.  They jogged behind everyone, Thomas’ eyes bouncing from person to person. 

            “Where’s Josh?” Thomas asked.

            “I’m here,” he jogged in, another shotgun around his shoulder.

            “You went back to the truck, you idiot?” Matt punched him on the shoulder.

            “Another gun can’t hurt, idiot.” He punched Matt’s shoulder back before Bernard pulled him back against him.

            “Stop, both of you. Shut the fuck up.”

            “He started it.”

            “Josh.”

            Thomas watched Bernard’s hand tighten on Josh’s shoulder and was vaguely reminded of a moment in WCKD’s facility. 

            “Alright, everybody’s in?” Vince asked, pulling the door shut. “Stay quiet.”

            Darkness overwhelmed the room, save for the small hints of light coming through the small cracks.

            The only sounds were breathing beneath the deep rumbling.  It suddenly got louder, like it was right next to him.  He felt Newt’s forehead press against his shoulder. He reached out and brushed his knuckles against Newt’s in two small taps – an echo of what Newt had done earlier – and felt the smallest breath come from Newt.  Relief.

            Thomas closed his eyes against the darkness, only listening as the berg passed overhead.

             
            When Jorge decided it was safe enough for them to go back out, the sun was fully up in the sky.  They walked out, blinking against the brightness. 

            “Two bergs in four days?” Matt asked, eyeing Vince.  “Can’t be good.”  
            “No,” Vince shook his head.  “Not so much.”

            “Thomas,” Harriet nodded to him. “What do you think?”

            Thomas looked at her, confused by the question.  “I…think it can’t be good.”

            Newt snorted next to him.  “Good input, Tommy.”

            “Thomas,” Vince laughed. “I think she means what you think we should do from here.”

            Thomas looked at Vince and then to Harriet. “Oh, what? Me?”

            “Yeah,” Harriet nodded. “You’ve been leading us this whole way, you don’t get off the hook now.”

            Thomas looked around at the group, all eyes on him.  He couldn’t believe they still all trusted him.  After everything he’d done, they still all looked to him.

            “Come on, Tommy,” Newt tapped his wrist.  “What do you think?”

            Thomas took a breath.  “I guess we should move.  If that’s two bergs here, like you said, there will probably be a third.  We need to get out of here.”

            “Couldn’t agree more,” Vince nodded.

            “Could we get a run in before we leave?” Brenda asked.  “There were a couple filled places here.  We should take advantage.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded.  “Me, Fry and Newt will go.  The rest of you get the trucks packed up.”

            The group seemed to nod, disperse under his orders.

            “Newt,” Fran asked.  “Can you grab any thin sheets you find? Any thing material at all? I’m running low for Ian.”

            “’Course, Fran.”  
            “Thanks,” she smiled at him, nodded once to Thomas, and walked off toward the trucks.

 

***  
  
            “Last time we were here we were able to find some pretty decent supplies,” Fry said, leading the way.

            “You guys came here already?” Thomas asked, voice small.  Must’ve been when he was in his coma.

            “Not Newt,” Fry said over his shoulder. “He stayed behind.  Me, Josh and Bernard came through.”

            Thomas nodded, eyeing the shelves.

            They were in a large warehouse looking building.  The metal shelves weren’t fully stocked, but there was definitely enough to collect.

            “Why don’t we split up?” Newt offered. “We could cover more ground. I’ve gotta find sheets for Fran.  Tommy, you focus on finding any medical supplies for Harriet and Fran.  Fry, you get-,”

            “Brenda already has me on a mission for paper towels?” He said it as if he was asking them.

            Thomas shrugged.

            “Okay, then you get the towels and grab thin sheets for Fran.  Tommy, medical supplies.  I’m gonna find wires for Joe.”

            “Hey,” Thomas reached out, grabbing their hands. “We meet back here in ten.”

            “Ten,” Fry nodded.

            The three of them separated among the aisles.

            Thomas wandered down the shelves, eyeing the items along it, wondering what they could use for medical supplies. 

            After a couple minutes, he was able to scrounge up bandages, tape and alcohol.  It would have to be enough.  He walked to the front and saw Frypan standing there with a basket of cloth towels, cloth sheets, paper towels, and curtains.

            “Christ, Fry.”

            “I don’t know what they need,” Fry shrugged. “Figured I’d be safe and get everything.”

            Thomas laughed and turned to look back across the store.  “Where’s Newt?”

            “Hasn’t come up yet.”

            Thomas ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.  _Stay calm, Thomas. Stay calm._ “Hold these,” he held out the medical supplies, but then eyed the pile of stuff in Fry’s arms.  He balanced the supplies on top of the sheets.  “Be right back.” He jogged back down the aisle and down another row. 

            He slowed to a walk, looking up and down each aisle he passed.  “Newt?”

            He kept walking further into the store, nerves spiking.  He was about to call his name again, but froze as his eyes found him at the end of one of the aisles.

            Newt stood with his back to Thomas, lines of muscle corded across it, trails of water dripping down as he finished emptying a water bottle over him. 

            Thomas’ breath caught in his throat and he backed up into the prior row, leaning against the shelf, heart hammering.

            He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, or why he felt the need to back up, to look away.  He’d seen plenty of the guys in the Glade in the Shower Block.  He was pretty sure he’d seen _Newt_ in the Shower Block before.

            Something about this was different, though.  Something about this dug beneath Thomas’ skin, beneath his thoughts, beneath…everything.

            He was being stupid.

            It was Newt.

            It was just Newt.

 

            He should at least give him a warning.

 

            He took a breath and called out, “hey Newt!”

            “Yeah, Tommy! Back here!”

            Thomas swallowed.

            It was _just Newt_ , he reminded himself.

            He walked around the edge of the aisle and into Newt’s.  Newt had his shirt slung over one of his shoulders, an open case of water bottles held in his arms as he walked toward him.  “No luck with the wires, but I found water.”

            Thomas nodded, dropping his gaze from the dip just above Newt’s collarbone, the soft skin between there and his shoulder.  He _definitely_ dropped his gaze away from the soft bit of skin at his hips, where his far-too-loose jeans hung low.

            “Good,” Thomas nodded, turning to lead them out of the aisle. “Good.”

            “Found a map, too,” he said, catching up to Thomas.

            “Good.”

            “Vince’ll like that.  He nearly tore _me_ in half when I told him what happened to the other one,” Newt laughed.

            Thomas nodded.

            “Oh, hang on. Hold this, Tommy?”

            Thomas held his arms out, counting the bottle caps on the waters as Newt transferred the case into his arms.  He did _not_ think about the way Newt’s chest brushed against Thomas’ hands.

            He watched as Newt balled up the shirt from his shoulder and tossed it aside.  He yanked another one down from a hanger and pulled it on. 

            Thomas exhaled.

            Newt grabbed another one and turned back to eye Thomas.  He looked at the shirt and back to Thomas and then shrugged. “Should fit.”  He tossed it over his shoulder and offered his hands for the case of water.

            Thomas just shook his head. “Got it.”

            Newt shrugged. “Fine by me, Muscles.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw and followed Newt to the front of the store. This was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. First, I wanna give a big thank you to everyone who didn't *completely* bite my head off for the last chapter. I told you things would get better. Thanks for sticking around. I hope this chapter made up for it.
> 
> 2\. I needed to touch on Thomas' first kill, but also Newt's first kill. I don't see many people who tackle this and I think it's important. It's just a brief mention, but it had to be done.
> 
> 3\. Campfire stories are my favorite stories <3
> 
> 4\. Memories are tough with the Gladers. All of them begin "existing" in a sense at different times, because they only remember so far back. So what was "two years ago" for Newt and Fry didn't even really exist for Thomas in a way. His memories don't start until he's in the box. So, for him, that's when he started living.
> 
> 5\. I want to also take this moment to throw out a huge thank you to "Red" on discord for showing this story so much appreciation. That being said, for an extra scene that takes place between this chapter and the next, please read a mini-series he is writing that is officially canon for Talk Me Home. I will be making notes of when to read which chapters. :]
> 
> "in your arms (i see a future)" by avatar_dragon_rider .
> 
> Ch1: On Babies & Bumblings  
> Or: Thomas, please exercise the squishy thinking blob
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203551/chapters/32741046
> 
>  
> 
> *Thank you all so much for all of your support and comments! You have no idea how much they mean to me. I never share my writing and this is one of the first times I've actually felt comfortable doing so. You're all so amazing and thank you for sticking around this long. There's plenty more to come! :]
> 
> **As soon as I [punches wall] figure out how to embed photos on here I'll post some of the awesome fanart and aesthetics that have been made! Love you all!!


	12. On Strikes & Strikeouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: #WelcomeToThe11!Verse

 

 

            “It’s gonna be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make it work,” Vince said to the group, hands on hips. 

            Thomas looked around.  Thirteen of them, three trucks, and even more supplies and bags taking up the space in Jorge’s truck.  How in the world…?

            Manny clapped his hands together.  “Alright, who’s goin’ where? Let’s get this caravan moving.  I don’t wanna be driving into a strange town in the dark.”

            Thomas felt Newt slowly nudge him with his hip.  He turned to the right to see him smiling to himself, arms crossed.  Smug bastard.

            Earlier that day, while the group rested, Newt had taken some initiative to help Thomas map out a plan for the day.  He was pretty focused, traced a path, had some good reasoning behind it about being in a strange potentially crank-filled town at night, but Thomas didn’t catch the details of his place.  He was focused on the fact that Newt had been holding Ian at the time, and for some reason, Thomas couldn’t get the image out of his head.

            Something wracked the inside of his brain and he tried to figure out what was scratching slowly at him.  He knew it wasn’t the first time he had seen Newt holding Ian, but something about the first time seemed like a distant memory.  It was fogged over.  Thomas swallowed, nerves beginning to buzz just slightly.

            Ever since the Failed Raid on WCKD, he’d been retracing his steps, going back through his faded memories.  He couldn’t tell what was hallucination and what was real from the past week.  Had he seen Newt holding Ian before or just imagined it?  Did he plan the trip to the town correctly to avoid reaching it past nightfall?  Did he have a say in the plan at all?  Did he fall asleep watching stars with Newt? And who was-

            “Thomas!”

            Thomas’ thoughts ricocheted back to the scene around him and his eyes fell on Vince, looking at him with brows raised.  “Yeah,” he agreed, for some reason.  He didn’t even know what he’d just agreed to.

            Vince looked at him for a moment before sighing, gesturing to the trucks behind him.  “Everyone hop in.”

 

***

 

            “You can sit on my lap if you want,” Matt winked at Brenda.

            Thomas looked up to see her attempt a playful punch at Matt’s arm, but he caught her hand in his, deflecting it.  “Not that shoulder, come on,” he laughed.

            “Still bothering you?”

            “Is my stab wound still bothering me? Yes, it is, thanks for asking.”

            “Oh get over it, I was bit by a Crank.”  
            “No lapping up,” Vince said getting into the driver’s seat.  “Sit like normal people.” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Thomas.

            _What_? he mouthed.

            “Yeah, Thomas,” Brenda laughed, pushing Matt aside from the door and sliding across the backseat toward the far window.

            Matt shook his head, nodding to the truck for Thomas to go.

            “No, it’s okay,” Thomas said, turning.  “You go ahead, I’m gonna grab Newt.”  He walked over toward Jorge’s truck where Newt was helping Manny secure some of the supplies down in the bed of the truck.

            He finished tying off the cord they’d been using, nodded once to Manny and then caught Thomas’ eyes.

            “You’re ready?” Thomas asked.

            “Seems like it.  We’re squeezing in Vince’s truck, then?”

            “Unless you wanna try to get under all that supplies you just shoved in there.”

            “Vince’s truck it is,” Newt laughed.  “Toss the jacket,” Newt nodded to Jorge’s truck. “The fewer layers between the four of us the better.”

 

            Thomas tried to keep his eyes on the sun for most of the ride, making sure it was still in the sky as they got closer.  It’d only been about fifteen minutes since they left the last town but with the big expanse of nothing around them, it felt longer.

            He felt Newt shift next to him, unbending his knee as much as he could – which wasn’t much given the tight squeeze – and then bending it again.  Thomas watched as they hit another bump and Newt’s leg moved with the shaking truck.

            “Vince, anyway you could find a bit of a smoother road?” Thomas asked. 

            “Thomas, I’m driving where I can.  Not like I’m aiming for the suckers.”

            “It’s alright, Tommy,” Newt said in a low voice next to him.  There’s a smile on his face that reassures Thomas.

            Still, Thomas glanced down at Newt’s leg as it continued swaying with the truck’s lurches.  Without thinking too much about it, Thomas shifted his leg a bit to press just the slightest bit against Newt’s.

            He felt Newt’s gaze before he looked back up at him and met it.  He watched Newt’s eyes drop back down to their legs.  The truck his another bump then and Thomas felt the slightest bit of a push from Newt’s leg, but it stood still.

            Newt gave Thomas a small smile then, a thank you.  “Y’know,” he said, voice so low that Thomas barely heard it over the static of the radio.  “You told me you’d sleep on the ride over to the town.”

            Thomas looked around the truck then to see Frypan already knocked out in the passenger’s seat and Brenda slowly starting to nod off on the other side of Matt.

            “Get some sleep, Tommy.”

            Thomas could hear the hint of a plea behind the question, in his voice.  Newt never wanted to see Thomas as he was before, and Thomas never wanted him to see that side of him again.  Thomas never wanted to _be_ that side again.  He wiggled himself backward against the seat, settling pressed between Matt’s shoulder and Newt’s.  He didn’t have anything else to do for the next hour.  
  
***  
  
            Newt’s laughter ripped Thomas from his dream and he lifted his head from Matt’s shoulder, where it had evidently fallen.

            No, he didn’t _actually_ hear Newt’s laughter.  The laughter was in his dream.

            With his stomach dropping and heart stopping, Thomas was suddenly very aware of the heat in the car, the proximity of the others to him, and Newt’s head on his shoulder. 

            Thomas swallowed hard. 

            He turned to the right, thankful to find Matt sleeping, his head leaning on Brenda’s shoulder.  Brenda, awake, watched the scenery roll by.

            Thomas was incredibly uncomfortable.

            He cleared his throat.  “Vince, how much longer?”

            He met Vince’s eye in the rearview mirror.  “I’d say about twenty minutes?”

            Thomas bit down on his tongue.  _Twenty minutes_.

            “You okay, Thomas?”

            Thomas snapped his eyes back up to the mirror.  “Hm?”

            “You look like you might be sick.  You need a window rolled down?”

            “Uh, yeah, please,” he stammered.

            “Gotta turn the handle by you, this truck is nothing fancy.”

            Thomas eyed the window winder.  Just inches from Newt’s leg.

            “I think I’ll be alright.”

            “No getting sick in this truck.  Already ripped my map, Thomas.  Last thing I need is your insides all over the backseat.”

            Thomas took a breath.  He couldn’t agree more.

 

            Thomas fought any urge to drift back asleep.  He didn’t need any more dreams about tight spaces or rough friction.  He had enough of that going on while he was stuffed in the backseat with three other people.  And he really needed to piss.

            He kept trying to make himself as small as possible without making himself move too much.  It hurt to move.  Besides, he still had Newt’s head resting on his shoulder, and every time Thomas turned his head, Newt’s hair brushed against his neck and sent shivers low down his spine. He slid his eyes low, enough to see the parted lips just inches – no, _less_ – above his collarbone. 

            _Hands gripped shoulders, hips, collarbones, waistbands_.

            Thomas dropped his head back against the seat, willing his body to allow him a full breath.  Willing his brain to forget the dream.  He had barely any recollection of that dream about that goat back in the Glade.  Why was it that his brain decided to keep _this one_ so _vivid_ and clear and physical and – _fuck_.

            The road.  The road.  Thomas kept his eyes forward, but it did nothing to distract him from the warm breath on his skin.  He ran a hand down his face and doing so accidentally elbowed Matt in the ribs.

            “Shitwe’ere?” Matt popped his head up from Brenda’s shoulder, blinking hard.

            Thomas immediately dropped his hand to his lap. “Nope, you can sleep a bit more.”

            Matt stretched next to him and Thomas felt himself get squished just a tiny bit more against Newt.

            “Sorry, Thomas.  Kinda hard to stretch back here,” he laughed.

            “Yep.”

            Matt rubbed his hands against his face and Thomas bit down on his own discomfort.

            “Why is it so friggin hot in here?” Matt asked.  “Can we get a window down, Vince?”

            “Lever’s back there on the door,” Vince called to the back.

            Matt’s eyes found it and Thomas wished for death. There was no amount of time in the world that would prepare him for Matt reaching over him and Newt to the handle, pushing him closer to Newt, Newt waking up and nothing – _nothing_ – could have prepared Thomas for Newt’s lips brushing his neck as the boy sat up.

            “Oi, Matt,” Newt said as he got pressed into the car door.

            Matt’s arm continued to turn the window lever and Thomas continued to hate everything.

            “Just…” Matt pushed down on the crank against and pulled it up. “God damn thing is wound too tight.”

            Thomas took a breath, staring at the roof of the truck. _Just one tiny, insignificant little death._

            After what Thomas would have sworn was a millennium, the window was down midway and Matt was sitting back in his seat.

            “Much better,” Matt sighed.

            “Yep,” Thomas agreed.  Though, he could have thought of a number of things that would _actually_ make the situation much better.  But now was definitely not the time to be thinking of those things.

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas clenched his jaw, swallowed. “Mhm?”

            “I know this is probably weird to ask but you think you could scoot your leg over a bit?”

            Thomas looked down.  His legs were already pressed against each other, far enough from Newt’s that he didn’t understand where Newt wanted him to move them to.  “I… sure.”  He tried to shift his legs closer to Matt’s.

            “No, no,” Newt laughed.  Then, to Thomas’ horror, he reached forward and grabbed Thomas’ knee with his hand, pulling his leg closer and against his again.

            Newt’s touch was an electric shock right through his bloodstream. A stun gun ending a million nails up Thomas’ leg.

            Several years later, when Newt finally let go of Thomas’ knee, he leaned back into his seat.  “Thanks, Tommy.”

            “Yep.”

           

***  
  
            The truck finally rolled to a stop and Thomas thanked every single atom in the universe.

             
            The group pushed themselves out of the truck.  The air was still here – too still.  Heat roiled off of every surface.  The buildings were just like the buildings in the last four towns: standing, but barely.  The town wasn’t entirely abandoned either.  Similar to the previous one, Thomas could see signs of inhabitance.  Boot prints and tire tracks, trucks that weren’t covered in sand or broken down, a creaking door somewhere in the distance.

            “Well, I guess this is good a town as any,” Manny shrugged, pulling a bag from the back of the truck. 

            “Should we do a run?” Harriet asked, squinting across the town.

            “I don’t see many shops around here,” Jorge said.

            Thomas had to agree. All that surrounded them was buildings, but it wasn’t like the last towns.  There were no shelves or signs.  These places almost looked like living quarters.

            “Doesn’t mean we can’t do a supply run,” Harriet turned back to them.

            “She’s not wrong,” Manny answered.

            “Alright,” Vince nodded.  “Three of you go together.”

            “I’ll go with them,” Joe said through a yawn.  “I need to move.  That trip was longer than I expected and I need to get my muscles moving. My leg is killing me.”

            Thomas watched as Joe gave Fran a kiss on the cheek, gave another to Ian’s forehead, and pulled a shotgun from the backseat.  Something about the entire exchange unnerved Thomas.

            “What do the rest of us do?” Matt asked, winding his shoulder a bit in attempt to stretch it.  He winced at something and dropped it.

            “I’ve gotta see a man about a horse,” Vince said.

            “You gotta what?” Josh asked.

            “He means take a piss,” Brenda explained.

             “Why didn’t he just say that?”

            Thomas sighed.  “I’ll be right back.”

            “Where ya goin’?” Newt’s hand shot out to grab Thomas’ wrist.

            “Get my own horse.”

            Newt let out a small laugh.  “Yeah, alright.”

 

            When Thomas got back to the camp, the others had already spread out.  Brenda, Jorge, Matt and Fry were playing that card game again, Josh and Bernard were apparently off inspecting a house for supplies, and Newt sat next to Fran with Ian in his arms.  Thomas bit down on the smile threatening to escape and, instead, turned toward Vince by the trucks. 

            “Hey,” he started, leaning a hip against the truck as Vince continued expecting the engine.  “You have that map we grabbed for you?”

            “You mean the map you owed me?” Vince answered with barely a glance in his direction.

            Thomas laughed.  “Yes, that one.”

            Vince looked at him now before he stood straight.  He reached into his back pocket and handed over the folded paper.  “Have any ideas of where you wanna be headed?”

            Thomas looked at the folded map in his hand. “Not really, but it can’t hurt to start looking.”

            “No, I guess it can’t.”  Vince slammed the hood of the truck shut and waved Thomas over. He gestured to the hood of the truck and Thomas spread the map out.  “Alright, so what’re we thinking?”

            Thomas exhaled, eyes scanning the map.  Lines, roads, mountains, coordinates.  What _was_ he thinking?  He literally had nothing to go on.  The WCKD Facility was the only thing he knew.  If they weren’t there…

            “The Maze,” Thomas said.

            “What?”

            Thomas looked up at Vince now.  “Where else would they go?  They’re not at the Facility.  They’d have to-,”

            “Thomas, I’m pretty sure those Mazes were shut down when you all got out.  I mean Matt and the boys told me their maze was destroyed by the time they left.  The whole forest was on fire.”

            Thomas furrowed his brows and looked back down at the map.  It was true The Glade was sort of left to chaos when they had left, but surely it might have still been standing.  One of them had to be.

            “Thomas,” Vince crossed his arms. “Why don’t you call Newt over here?”

            Thomas looked up at him now.

            “He’s pretty much your right-hand-man, yeah?”

            Thomas dropped his gaze back to the map.  “I don’t think he likes taking part in this.”

            “What? What makes you say that?”

            “I’ve tried to make him leader before.  He’d be much better than I am.”

            “Not necessarily.”

            Thomas looked up at him.

            Vince shrugged. “Sometimes it’s not the level-headed one you need as a leader.”

            “Do I need to remind you about the last time I initiated a plan?”

            “No, but we knew you were overstressed.  _That’s_ why he stepped up.”

            “Newt?” Thomas stood up straight from hovering over the map.  “What do you mean?”

            “Changed the plan.”

            Thomas wracked his brain for details of how the night went down, but it was still only a blur.  Everything just blended and every time he thought about it all he could see – all he could _feel_ – was everything on his hands, drying and crusting beneath his fingernails.

            “Thomas I obviously don’t know what happened inside that facility,” Vince said, pulling Thomas from the memory.  “But seeing the three of them run out of their looking how they were? Screaming like they were? Practically dragging Matt between the two of them,” Vince shook his head.

            Thomas swallowed, picturing the scene.  _Why were they dragging Matt_? He turned and looked over his shoulder at the boy now where he sat in the small square, placing a card down in the center.  Thomas watched him rotate his shoulder again while laughing as Frypan threw his cards down.

            If Thomas hadn’t gone after them, whatever happened to Matt could have been avoided.  A lot could have been avoided.  They might have even gotten Minho and all of the others. 

            He turned back to Vince.  “Changing the plan, keeping me back with you and Fry.  That was Newt’s idea?”

            Vince nodded.  “You weren’t there, not really.  We had to make a decision.  Newt did what he thought was right.”

            “Why didn’t you make the decision?”

             Vince sighed, letting his arms uncross and he put his hands in his pockets.  “This isn’t my mission, Thomas.  It’s yours.  Like I said, Newt’s your right-hand man. I know what that means.  I was Mar-,” his voice cut short then and he closed his mouth over the unspoken name.

            Thomas dropped his gaze, giving Vince the moment, and thought about what he’d said.  He never thought about it like that, not really.  It was just second nature for him to look to Newt when he needed assistance, when he needed anything.  He’d be utterly lost without Newt next to him.

            “I’m gonna call him over.”

            “I think that’s a great idea, Thomas.”  
            He jogged over toward Newt and Fran, eyes falling on Newt’s smile as he looked down at Ian, bundled in his arms.

            “I’m serious,” Fran was laughing.

            “He really said that?” Newt looked up to Fran, but then forward as Thomas got closer.  His smile fell a bit.  “Tommy, hey.”  He glanced at Fran quickly before looking back to Thomas.

            “Hey, Newt. Fran,” he nodded to her and she smiled up at him.  “Newt, can I borrow you for a minute?”

            “Of course.” 

            Thomas watched the delicate exchange of Ian, another flash of a smile from Newt down to the boy, and then Newt was walking next to him back toward Vince and the map.

            “What’s going on?” Newt asked.  It was as if a switch went off.  Newt was no longer the baby-holding, smiling boy he was moments ago.  Now he was the focused planner, steps ahead, wheels spinning.  Ever the Second-in-Command.

            “We’re trying to figure out our plan of action,” Thomas nodded down toward the map, but could pull his eyes from Newt.  The boy had a certain demeanor about him, a certain look to him.  Squared shoulders, furrowed brows, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth.  For the life of him, Thomas couldn’t look away.

            “Alright,” Newt said. 

            Thomas could note every detail of the boy’s voice now, even in the single second it took to say one word.  The way his L’s didn’t come out fully sometimes, the accent pulling letters in different directions.  Thomas drowned in his voice.

            “Well,” he said, hands on hips.  He looked up to Thomas now with a wry smile on his face.  “Gotta say, I’m pretty happy to have a say in it now, since only twelve percent of your plans ever work.”

            Thomas blinked.  “Twelve percent?”

            “Actually, you’re right.  After last time, you’ve officially dropped to eleven.”

            “Eleven percent?” Thomas scoffed.  “Come on, Newt.  Give me a little more credit than that.”

            Newt’s eyes crinkled with his smile and when they moved to scan Thomas’ body, Thomas nearly buckled.  “We’ll see.  For now,” Newt turned back to the map, “we’re sticking with eleven.  Let’s see you prove me wrong, yeah?”

            Newt leaned on the truck, shook his hand at the electric shock, and eyed the map.  He traced a line, scanned roads, shook his head to himself.  Thomas watched on.  _Eleven percent_.  He felt like he should be offended but, somehow, the way that Newt said it put him at ease.  Yes, he still felt guilty for everything he’d put them through and yes, he needed to work on his rash decisions, but even through all of that, Newt was still here.  Still looking to him to lead, still trusting him. That was enough for Thomas.

            They volleyed ideas back and forth for the better part of an hour.  Thomas’ idea about the Mazes was shot down pretty swiftly.  When he’d suggested trying the Facility again, Newt answered with a simple no.

            “Thomas, the Facility was empty.  Abandoned.  It looks like they’ve been just packing it up.  There were no signs of anyone, barely even any guards there.  Why do you think it was so easy for us to get in?  They’ve moved the experiments, just no way to know where.”

            “It was empty?” Thomas asked, wracking his brain once more for any hint of a memory.

            Newt shrugged. “Empty shelves, darkened rooms, a handful of staff.  They’re not keeping Minho there anymore.  They’re not keeping anyone there.”

            “So we’ve gotta figure out where they’re moving them,” Vince said.

            “And how,” Newt added.

            “There has to be another facility,” Thomas said.

            “Another one?”

            “Where else would they be moving them?”

            “I don’t know,” Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “I mean I don’t know what else to think.”  He ran his hand down his face now and froze.

            “What’s wrong?” Newt asked, stepping a bit closer.

            “What if he’s not there?”  Thomas looked up at the two of them now.  Vince’s eyes flickered back and forth between Newt and Thomas and Newt just stared at Thomas, reading him.

            “Not there,” Newt repeated.

            “Newt, what if he got out? What if he was able to escape?”

            He watched the understanding come over Newt’s featured, a small wrinkle between his brows as a frown took over.  “You think he broke out?”

            “You don’t?”

            “I don’t know, Tommy.  We barely made it out last time.  Besides there were _no_ kids there.  You think all of them got out?”

            “Maybe in the transport?”

            Newt opened his mouth to speak but his words were cut off by a sudden gust of wind.

            Thomas slammed one hand on the map and shielded his eyes with the other as sand was blown up around them.  He heard Vince hack a violent cough behind him.  The sand settled again, but the air was suddenly flowing freely around them.  It was as if someone has turned a fan on in a hot room.  He had to admit, he was thankful for the breeze now.  He dropped the arm he’d used as a shield and his stomach immediately dropped at the sight of Newt holding his scarf up to his mouth and nose.

            Newt slowly lowered it and let it fall back to its resting place around his neck, only this time it was visible outside of his shirt.  “What’s wrong?”

            Thomas blinked from the scarf to Newt’s face now.  “What?”

            “Why’re you looking at me like that?”  
            “Like what?”  Thomas looked back down to the map.

            “Like I just threatened you or something,” he laughed.

            Thomas clenched his jaw trying to focus on the map.

            “Tommy,” Newt’s voice came softer now, accompanied by a light graze of fingers on his back.  Thomas nearly caved.  “Why don’t we take a break from this? You’re gonna overstress and it’s not like we have leads to go on anyway.”

            “He’s not wrong, Thomas,” Vince shrugged. “Sun’s about to set and we should probably get a camp set up.  Sleep on it, eat something.  We’ll get back to this in the morning once we reset.”

            Thomas sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

            “No, Thomas,” Newt laughed, stilling his hand on his back.  “Now.”

            Thomas willed himself not to focus on Newt’s hand, on his low voice, on the scarf around his neck, on his stupid dream.  “I’ll be there in a minute,” he repeated.

            “One minute,” Newt repeated. “Don’t think I won’t be counting.”

            Thomas listened as Newt and Vince walked off toward the group and he exhaled.  He hated his stupid brain.

 

***  
  
            The group sat scattered around the trucks, separated into smaller ones here and there. Manny and Jorge were discussing something off to the side, Joe was messing with a small radio receiver he’d found on the supply run next to a sleeping Fran and Ian.  Harriet was curled up inside of one of the trucks, shotgun safely next to her.  Vince was sleeping in his own truck, and Josh and Bernard claimed the back of Jorge’s truck, curled up among bags of supplies.

            Fry, Brenda and Matt were still playing cards off to the side, laughing in whispers in the dark.  Thomas found himself just a bit away from them, watching without understanding what the rules actually were.

            “You have to hit the face and then throw another suit!” Brenda snapped in a whisper.

            “No, it’s the suit first,” Matt said back.

            “I thought it was a number.”

            “This is why you always lose, Fry,” Brenda laughed, running a hand through her hair.

            Matt let out a small bark of a laugh and immediately covered his mouth.  Brenda’s hair was floating around her like it was magnetized.

            “For fuck’s sake,” she laughed.  She ran her hand through it again.  “Fuckin’ stop it!”

            “Are you yelling at your hair?” Fry laughed, rearranging his cards.

            “It won’t stay down!”

            Matt continued laughing into his hand, swatting away Brenda’s fist when she tried to punch him.

            A part of Thomas’ chest tightened, watching them laugh amongst each other.  Three people who didn’t even know each other months ago and, somehow, they seemed to fall into an easy friendship.   

            “Hey, Tommy.”

            Thomas looked up to see Newt standing next to him.

            “Wanna walk?” Newt nodded behind him and whatever was tightening in Thomas’ chest became vice-like.

            He nodded.

            They walked in silence for a little bit, not getting too far from camp, but enough of a distance that Matt’s laughs were barely carried on the wind.

            Thomas pulled the jacket up around him a bit more, breathing in the mint and moss.

            “How’re you doing?”

            Thomas looked at Newt.  “I’m good?”

            “Are you asking me or telling me?” Newt laughed.

            “I don’t know,” Thomas laughed, putting his hands in his pockets. “You’re the one who said you can tell when I’m lying and when I’m not.”

            “That’s fair.”  
            Thomas let a beat of silence in before he spoke. “And you?”  
            Newt took a breath. “I’m okay.  Nervous, but okay.”

            “Nervous?”

            Newt just nodded in response.

            Thomas looked sideways at him, but Newt kept looked forward, eyes distant with thought.  Nervous. 

            Thomas thought back to their conversation about Minho and whether he might have escaped.  He wondered about the thoughts he might have put into Newt’s head.  Thoughts of Minho being out in the Scorch by himself, lost on his own.  Or the possibility that he didn’t escape. The possibility that Minho was still in the clutches of WCKD.  The possibility that Minho-

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas looked up to see Newt had stopped walking and was watching him.  There was an odd look on the boy’s face now – worry, fear. Tension.

            Hope.

            “Newt, what’s wrong?”

            Newt swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it. 

            Thomas could hear a breath come through the boy’s nose, watched him swallow again.

            “Newt?”

            He watched as Newt ran his tongue along his upper lip, settling it in its spot in the corner. He watched his shoulders rise with another breath and suddenly he was taking a step forward, closer to Thomas.

            Thomas knew there were moments that felt slowed down, that felt paused.  Moments that you could practically see happening in slow motion. 

            This was one of those moments.

            It was Newt taking a step forward.

            It was Newt’s eyes flickering across Thomas’ face.

            It was Newt’s hand reaching out toward his.

 

            And then it was a loud, cracking blast shot-gunning through the air. Everything went white and suddenly time was moving again.

            Thomas and Newt had frozen, looking at each other now, confusion on their faces.  Something in Thomas’ mind tugged at him, begged to make him think on what was happening – or rather, what was about to happen – before the flash.

            But there wasn’t time for that.

           

            “Get DOWN!”

            Thomas spun his head back toward camp where he could just barely see Vince waving to the others outside of the truck.

            “Thomas what’s happening?”

            Thomas looked around them, squinting in the harsh winds.  “A sandstorm?”

            “That didn’t happen last time,” Newt countered.

            “We’ve gotta get back to camp, come on.” Thomas grabbed Newt’s arm and jogged toward camp.

            The shouting got clearer as they got closer, but they were still too far away.

            “Vince!” Thomas yelled, but his shout was overtaken by another earsplitting crackle above them, a deep rolling and another flash of white.

            This time the ground rumbled below them.

            Thomas and Newt skidded to a halt.

            “Thomas, what is happening?”  
            “I don’t know, Newt!” Thomas’s eyes scanned around them.  They were still a good distance from camp but they could be there if they ran.  Fast.  They had to get to the shelter.  “Let’s go.”

            They barely took one step when they saw a crooked white line work its way from the dark blue sky down to the ground, impaling it right behind Joe.

            He heard a faint yell next to him from Newt, but his ears were ringing too loud to make out words anymore.

            He knew these flashes, this ringing, this ear splitting shattering sound.  He knew the vibrations, the wind, the electricity in the air. 

            “Newt…”

            He didn’t hear if Newt responded.  He felt a hand wrap around his and pull him in the other direction, running. 

            He followed Newt, trying to pull the part of himself that was still standing there watching the camp.

            Thomas looked up to the sky as they ran.

            Flashes. Crooked lines and fractures.

            Another shock to the ground sent the two of them down to the ground, sliding to the side.  Thomas pushed himself up, his body protesting but obeying.  He looked to the side and shuddered a breath.  No.  _No_. He wouldn’t let himself think the worst.  No.

            He stumbled a bit sideways, caught his balance and jogged over to the crumpled heap that was Newt.  He fell to his knees, eyeing the dark sky before he turned Newt over.

            Newt coughed, hand reaching up and grasping Thomas’ jacket.

            “Newt, come on, we’ve gotta get inside.”  He looked up to see a doorway just a bit further from them.  “Newt come on, it’s just right there.”

            “Okay, okay,” Newt breathed, nodding.

            Thomas helped him stand up, ignoring the cry of pain he heard.  He couldn’t focus on that, he had to focus on getting them to safety first.

            He slung Newt’s arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own around Newt’s waist and the two of them awkwardly shuffled toward the doorway.

            Another crack sounded overhead, but this time a separate crack accompanied it.

            Thomas saw sparks fall to the ground and looked up to see a wooden beam split completely down the middle falling toward them, electric wires snapping apart as they were pulled taut.

            Thomas ducked from under Newt’s arm and shoved him with all the strength he had and watched him roll to the ground, sliding a few feet. Without a glance up, Thomas moved.  His legs pushed behind him, propelling him forward one after the other, faster than they’d even moved in the Maze. Fire burned inside of him.  Three steps later there was a crash and the ground vibrated beneath him, sent him stumbling to the ground and rolling once, twice.

            “Tommy!”

            Thomas opened his eyes, breathed, did a quick check that he could feel his limbs.  He turned his head over and saw the half of the wooden beam embedded into the ground just where he’d been standing. He turned to see Newt kneeling on the ground just a few feet away, relief flooding his face.

            “Tommy,” he breathed.

            Thomas knew he had to move.  Had to get to him.   His arms pushed against the ground, shoulders burning.  Everything burned. 

            He pushed himself to stand. 

 

            It was a series of moments.

 

            It was Newt pushing himself up, eyes on Thomas’ own.

            It was the distance between them.

 

            It was a blinding white screen, blocking everything.

            It was white and only white.

 

            It was a shattered cry somewhere in the distance.

            It was a resounding crack that dug deep into Thomas’ bones.

 

            It was the shaking ground, the world cracking beneath his boots.

            It was the sensation that Thomas had just been jolted across the universe.

 

            It was a tear in his chest, a rip in his mind, a split in everything he knew.

 

           

            And then it was color coming back to him, sounds, winds, everything around him, everything he was caught in, all slammed back into place.  Thomas slammed back into place.

            He watched as the lightning cleared from the space between them and when it did, it took everything in him to not to buckle down to the floor in relief.

            There was a crooked crack in the ground, a gash. And beyond that was Newt, kneeling, looking back at Thomas.

            Time was a construct, a theory, as they both knelt looking at each other.  Both breathing, living.  Both spared.

            And then Newt was moving.

            Thomas had barely stood when he felt Newt barrel into him, the two of them stumbling backward through the doorway, into the darkness of the abandoned shelter.  Thomas let Newt steer him sideways against the wall and his back slammed against it, numb.

            He watched another crooked white flash burst across the sky, splitting everything, everything, everything apart.

            His heart pounded beneath his chest, beneath Newt’s fists curled into the material of the jacket.

            Newt’s hair brushed against Thomas’ neck, his forehead pressed onto Thomas’ shoulder, his own body rising and falling with breaths that came quick and short.

            There were cracks and crashes of thunder.

            There were heartbeats and breaths.

            There was Newt.

            Thomas’s arms wrapped around him, holding him to himself.  He let his head fall back onto the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and breathed with him.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and hope you’ve enjoyed the chapter. You’ve now officially read the Canon prequel to “Where You Lead” by Kathsilver, among other stories within the 11!Verse. 
> 
> Please note that from this point forward, timelines have split, and not all future events in Talk Me Home will be canon in the 11!Verse. However, the authors have chosen as they wished what to keep from the following chapters, so you may see something familiar.
> 
> #WelcomeToThe11!Verse
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. For those who’d like more information on this dream of Thomas’, please read Ch2 of “in your arms (i see a future)” by avatar_dragon_rider https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276397
> 
> 2\. Thank you to everyone who participated in theorizing and the Abrupt Chaos(tm) that was 4/11. We appreciate and love everyone who appreciates and loves our stories
> 
> 3\. For those looking for more information on the 11!Verse, please check out the Call My Name series by KathSilver and WCKD Knight by Tattered_Dreams for stark parallels. 
> 
> This is just the beginning.


	13. On Nights and Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Frypan is Really Bad at Card Games

 

 

            The crashes slowed, dulled.  The forked flashes across the sky became distant until they disappeared altogether.  And Thomas breathed with Newt.

 

            He couldn’t count breaths or heartbeats, not when they were mixed with each other’s. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there against the wall, Newt in his arms still clutching his jacket.  But like all things, the storm ended, and Thomas finally lifted his head from its spot on the wall.  “Hey,” he said softly.  Newt’s hair fluttered under his breath. “You okay?”  He punctuated this with a small tap against Newt’s lower back, where his hands still rested.

            He felt Newt’s body rise with an inhale, lower with an exhale, and then Newt’s head was lifting from his shoulder and Thomas could see the glassed film over his eyes.  Not quite tears, but almost.  Newt looked down at his hands as he detached them from Thomas’ jacket and flexed his fingers, color finally finding its way back to his knuckles.

            Thomas had been close to Newt hundreds of times, but somehow this was different. He was sharply aware of the inch or two of height Newt had on him, the feathered breaks in his eyebrows and the lines below his dark eyes.  That scar that was steadily fading.  Thomas had a sudden urge to brush his fingers across it. His hand twitched in its place on Newt’s back.

            “You okay?” Thomas asked again.

            Newt’s eyes lifted to meet his own and Thomas’ heart jackknifed at the pull in them.  A pull that he felt deep within his core. A pull that became a want to talk, a want to explore. A want for so many things.

            “I thought…” Newt started, eyes flicking between both of Thomas’. “I thought you…”

            Thomas responded with a small nod, eyes trapped in Newt’s. “I know,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

            Looking at Newt now, Thomas allowed himself to think back to the moment before lightning struck.  Newt had been moving toward him, reaching for him.  Newt had been looking at him with hope, with something Thomas could never define.  A look that made Thomas’ heart pound, his breath hitch.  A look that Thomas felt his own features shift into now.

            He didn’t know how to bring them back to that moment, how to get back to the moments before the storm, before lightning forked between them, before Thomas thought he saw Newt crash down beneath it.

            What would he have done? How would he have moved; how would he have done anything?  That was Newt crumpled to the ground, behind flashes and cracked fissures in the world. But then, so was this. _This_ was Newt.  This was Newt standing in front of him, still in his arms, still looking at him, still breathing, still alive. 

            They were surrounded time and time again by too many close calls, too many what-ifs, too many everythings and it hit Thomas like a brick.  He swallowed. “Newt…”

            “Thomas!”

            Thomas was shell-shocked back to the world around them, Frypan calling for him outside of the building.  He finally broke the locked gaze with Newt, shifting his sight just past Newt’s face toward the door.

            “In here, Frypan!” Newt called, voice tight.

            Thomas shifted his eyes back to Newt’s and there was a single second that he saw Newt’s brows tilt upward, an apology, defeat. A lost moment.

            Thomas let his arms fall back to his sides and Newt backed out of them and turned toward the door.

            “Fry!”

            The door banged open then as Fry pushed his way in, his eyes finding both of their faces. 

            Thomas watched his shoulders drop, relief flood his face.

            “Brenda!” he called out on a sigh.  “In here!”

            Thomas pushed off the wall but froze when he watched a blur of movement barrel into the building and suddenly he was thrown back against the wall, mouth full of hair, Brenda’s arms around his neck.

            “Fuck, Thomas!” She choked on a laugh, punctuated it with a sniffle.

            “Hey, Bren…” he smiled, hugging her back.

            Over her shoulder, Thomas could see Newt and Fry exchange a hug.

            “God, we were so scared,” Fry said, shaking his head as he backed away from Newt.  “Had no idea where you guys went.”

            Brenda pulled herself off Thomas and her arms found their way around Newt’s neck next while Thomas hugged Fry.  They were both here. They’d made it, too.

            “The rest of camp?” Newt asked.

            Brenda pulled back from him and glanced at Fry.  “Nothing too bad, some injuries.  Joe got a pretty bad shock while messing with the radio.”

            “Ian?” Newt pressed, folding his arms across his chest.

            “He’s fine,” Brenda nodded.  “Bernard got pretty banged up under some shrapnel.  Manny’s helping Harriet patch him up.”

            “Come on,” Fry waved them toward the door. “Let’s get back to camp.  Everyone’s worried.”

            The two of them led the way out of the building, but Thomas stayed still, watching Newt.  He looked over at Thomas, their eyes meeting, before Newt’s gaze dropped to the floor.  Thomas watched as Newt’s hand tightened on his own arm as his eyes flicked back up to Thomas’ once more before he turned his focus and followed the other two outside.

            Thomas swallowed words, thoughts, confessions.  He swallowed the urge to call Newt back into the building, swallowed feelings and revelations.  They had to get back to camp, they had to make sure everyone was okay.  They had to prioritize.

            There would be time later.

 

            “Thomas, Newt. Thank god,” Matt walked over as they reached the group and gave a quick one-armed hug to each of them.  Thomas felt something clench in his chest, recognized it as surprise.  Surprise at Matt’s relief to see them alive, surprise at the way everyone seemed to be grateful to see them.  Surprise at the relief Thomas felt seeing all of them. Thirteen, there were still thirteen. And a half.

            “You guys alright?” Fran nodded over to them, a cloth thrown over her shoulder and rolled bandages in her hands.  She also held a small sharp needle and thin thread and Thomas shuddered, thankful he didn’t have any open wounds.

            “Is Bernard alright?” Newt asked.

            Matt scratched the back of his neck.  “He’s pretty banged up.  Resting in the truck.”

            Newt nodded and Thomas found himself nodding along as well, actual relief seeping into him at the knowledge that Bernard was okay.  In the past two months, these people have become close to family for him.  They were all he knew at the moment.  He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but there was a connection between all of them.  He couldn’t fathom losing any of them at this point.

            Something scratched at the back of Thomas’ brain and he found himself looking at Newt.  Another glimpse of that storm flashed in his head.  His stomach clenched at the memory of not knowing whether Newt would be there when the world came back to him.

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas blinked back to the present to see Newt watching him, a brow raised.

            “Yeah, sorry.”  Thomas shook his head.  “Just glad we’re all okay.”

            Newt watched him for another minute before his lips turned up just slightly. “Me too.”

            Thomas smiled on a hint of a laugh, on relief. 

            “Alright, Thomas,” Vince said.  “I don’t know what you wanna do.  If you still wanna move out or you wanna sleep here for the night and move out tomorrow?”

            “Let’s wait.”  Thomas turned his head now to look up at Vince, saw the others watching him between small glances at each other.

            “Wait?” Vince repeated.

            “Let’s wait here,” he started. “For a few days.”  Thomas laughed a bit at the looks he was getting from the others. “Listen, I know I’ve been a tyrant about moving and time and all but,” Thomas ran a hand down his face and glanced to Newt again before continuing.  “The truth is we don’t know where WCKD took them.  Any of them.  Minho, Aris and the others. For all we know there could be another facility, there could be another Maze, they could have escaped, they could be trapped, I don’t know. And believe me, as soon as we have even a hint of where they might be we’ll all be in those trucks firing down the roads toward them.  But we don’t have that.  We have nothing to go off of right now, we have no ideas, no leads.  What we do have is us. This group. What we have is time to bridge between now and the day we hear something.  I say that for now we focus on this.  Focus on what we have.”

             Thomas watched as the others exchanged looks, smiles slowly appearing here and there.  Vince stepped up toward him first, a hand clapping down on his shoulder.  “Thomas, this may yet be my favorite speech of yours.”

            Thomas laughed, the others joining in. 

            “Let’s set up shop here,” Vince turned to the others.  “Let everyone know.  We’ll get another supply run in.”

            The others turned to walk off toward the rest of the group by the trucks, leaving only Thomas, Vince and Newt.

            “You really think it’s a good idea?” Thomas laughed.

            “Thomas,” Vince started, hands on his hips.  “I know you want to get him back, I know you wanna storm WCKD. Which is why I also know that deciding to stay here for a bit is probably eating at you, but I can’t stress how much I agree with it.  We need to slow down, rethink.  It’s important to live during all of this.  You can’t just spend all your time chasing down the bad guys,” Vince laughed.

            Thomas nodded.  “Thanks, Vince.”

            Vince clapped another hand on his shoulder before turning to walk off toward the others. 

            Another hand brushed against his and he turned to see Newt smiling at him.  “Good job, Tommy.  Told ya you were a leader.”

            Thomas could only smile in response, words fading from his mind.  Newt walked off, following Vince, and Thomas watched him thinking that Vince was absolutely right.  It was important to live, and it was about time he started.

 

            “Get that side,” Newt nodded to him across the comforter.

            Thomas reached off to the side to grab the corner and lay it flat as he could.  They finished laying out the last of the comforters they were able to gather from the last town.  Thomas looked just a bit further past Newt to see the entire row made up of about six of them, everyone starting to claim little areas on each one. Bernard was still resting in one of the trucks, Josh at his side, and Fran and Joe stayed in Joe’s truck to keep Ian sheltered.  Vince stayed alone in his truck, claiming he hated the sand.

            Newt turned to look over his shoulder at the others all gathering in.  “Well, I guess here’s a good spot as any, yeah?” He turned back and shrugged at Thomas before he lowered himself to sit on the blanket.

            “Newt! Thomas!”

            “Bloody hell, what now?” Newt muttered through his teeth.

            Thomas looked over to where Brenda was waving them over.

            “I’ll see what she wants.”

            “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Newt moved to stand and Thomas stepped up next to him, offering a hand.  “Thanks, my hero,” Newt laughed.

            “Fine,” Thomas laughed pulling his hand back. “Get up your damn self.”  
            Newt raised his brows at Thomas, his lips parting in an open smile. Mocked offense.

            Thomas grinned at the look and lowered his hand.  “Come on.”

            Newt’s hand found his, but tugged, and Thomas felt himself stumble. He almost would have fallen down on top of the boy if he hadn’t moved his leg fast enough to catch his balance.  He shook the image from his head as a high-pitched hitch of a laugh came from Newt.

            “Come on, Tommy,” Newt laughed. “Stop shucking around and help me up.”

            “Seriously?” Thomas laughed.

            Newt grinned at him and let Thomas pull him up to stand.  “Thanks.”

            “Don’t get used to it,” he said through his smile.

            Newt only glanced back at him over his shoulder with a glint in his eye as he walked over toward the others.

            Thomas pushed his tongue into his cheek to try to conceal his smile before he followed.

           

            He settled onto the comforter in the circle between Newt and Harriet.  Frypan passed a canteen to Newt.

            “No, thank you,” Newt laughed.

            “Oh, come on,” Harriet said.  “It’s not like you’ll get drunk off one sip.”

            “Yeah, unless you down the whole thing,” Thomas muttered.

            Newt turned to him, murder written on his face.

            Brenda coughed. “Just don’t pour it on Thomas’ head.”

            Matt barked out a laugh over Frypan’s snort and Newt’s head whipped around to face Brenda, a shit-eating grin on her face.

            Thomas just hoped the night was dark enough that no one would see the heat in his cheeks.

            “Anyway,” Newt said, eyes still locked on Brenda.

            Thomas played with a rip in the blanket, trying to play distracted, as if he didn’t hear anything.

            “Right,” Matt cleared his throat. “Let’s do this.”

            Thomas looked up now as he heard a shuffle next to him.  Harriet started tossing cards out to all of them, face down.  “Game’s ‘Shotguns’.  Frypan remember, diamonds outplay spades.”

            “Right, got it.”

            “Yeah and hearts reverse it,” Brenda added.

            “Yep.”

            “Aces are-,”

            “Guys!” Fry laughed. “I got it!”

            “Wait, wait, wait,” Thomas shook his head.  “What is this?”

            Harriet tossed her head back. “For the love of God if I have to explain this one more time to someone.”

            “Sorry,” Thomas muttered.

            “No, it’s fine,” she laughed – _actually laughed._ “You weren’t here any of the times we played, it’s fine.”

            “Are you… did you just laugh?”

            She looked at Thomas now, confused.  “Yeah?”

            “She does that sometimes,” Frypan said.

            “Zap it, you,” she said, flicking a card in his direction.

            “What the hell did I miss when I slept?” Thomas laughed.

            “A fuckin’ lot,” Brenda laughed, picking the card out of Frypan’s collar. She passed it back to Harriet who shuffled it back into the deck.

            “Okay, shove it,” Matt said, earning himself a death look from her.  “Harriet explain so we can get started.”  Matt started passing out small stones to everyone.  Thomas took his and looked at the boy in question.  “She’ll explain.”

            “Alright,” Harriet clapped. “Three cards each.  I lay two on the board. You bounce your rock. Whichever card it lands on, you have to put a card that’s better than that one. In order of suits it goes hearts, clubs, spades and diamonds. Obviously the numbers are in order. You can throw a suit or a number. If you don’t have a card to put down, you pick from the pile.  If your stone doesn’t land on a card, you skip your turn _and_ the turn of the next person. If the number you put out is a heart, you reverse the game play. First person out of their cards wins.”

            Thomas blinked.

            “Also,” Brenda added, “if an ace is thrown on the board, someone has to yell out shotgun. The first person to yell it – obviously not the person who dropped the card – gets to take someone’s turn from them.”

            “Aces are high,” Matt tacked on.

            “When it reverses, so do the orders of the cards so you’ll start going lower on the reverse,” Newt said.

            Thomas looked at him.

            “You were out for three days,” Newt shrugged. “Had to pass the time somehow.”

            Thomas snagged on his words, the rules of the game completely falling away from him and instead replaced with the idea of Newt having to _pass time_ waiting for Thomas to wake up.  What had gone on in that time?

            “Are you following?” Frypan asked. “It can get tricky, I kn-.”

            “Build up from the numbers or suits, reverses, aces are high, call out shotgun.”  He rattled the rules off robotically, still looking at Newt.

            “Wow,” Matt laughed. “Got it on the first try. Tough luck, Panny.”

            “ _Panny!_ ” Brenda choked out.

            “Not that again,” Fry laughed.

            Thomas finally looked back at the circle when Newt did. “Panny?”

            “No,” Fry laughed.

            “Matt decided to give everyone nicknames,” Harriet laughed.

            “None of them are good,” Brenda said.

            “Please don’t nickname me,” Thomas laughed.

            Matt snorted and Thomas watched an odd look exchanged among the group.

            Newt cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get started?”

            Thomas decided he wouldn’t ask. “Who’s up first?”

            “Brenda won last time,” Matt nodded to her, fanning his cards in front of him.

            “Naturally,” she smirked at her own hand and received a flick of fingers from Matt.

            Thomas caught her eye across the circle then, and for a split second, there was a moment that lasted.  Thomas smiled over to her and she grinned back, a small shrug before she dropped her gaze back to her cards. 

            “Thomas,” Newt nudged him.  “Why don’t you go first?”

            “Uhh,” Thomas looked at his cards.  “I’ll try.”  He tossed the stone toward the two cards on the mattress. It landed on a seven of diamonds. “Of course!” he laughed, reaching for the pile of cards in the middle. “Do I just keep picking until I get a card?”

            “No, just take one,” Harriet said, tossing her own stone.

            “Tough luck, Thomas,” Newt shrugged.

            Thomas opened his mouth to ask a question, but was cut off by Matt yelling _shotgun_ and completely lost his train of thought.

            “Nice, Matt,” Fry said.

            “Taking Brenda’s turn.”

            “You asshat,” she said, backhanding his arm.

            “Hey!”

            “Oh, shove it, that’s not your bad shoulder, you’re fine.”

            “Keep hitting me and it’s gonna become my bad shoulder.”

            “Guys,” Harriet said, tossing her head back. “Please. I’m not sitting here for four hours again.”

            “Where’s the drink?” Newt said, eyeing the circle.

            Matt snorted, tossing his rock onto the cards.  He softly chanted as he looked at his cards, “drunk Newt, drunk Newt, drunk Newt, dru- _ow_ what the hell?”  Matt shook his head, picking up the rock.

            “Sorry,” Thomas smirked.

            As Matt took his turn, Thomas spared a glance in Newt’s direction and caught the tail end of a smile, taking a sip from the canteen.

            The game continued for the better part of an hour.  Matt snuck another look at Brenda’s cards, which earned him another rock to the head.  Frypan called “shotgun” when Newt threw down a six of clubs, and Thomas got his turn skipped four times. 

            “And _that’s_ how it’s done, bitches!” Brenda flicked the last card from her hand into the center.

            “Again?” Harriet dropped her cards in the center. “How? There’s literally no skill to this.”

            “Actually there is,” Newt tilted his head. “Depending if you know who to skip at what times, and if you’re keeping track you can throw out a number or a suit to throw off the next pers-.”

            “Oh my god,” Matt tossed his head back.

            “What?” Newt laughed.

            “Why do you bring logic into everything?”  
            “What’s wrong with that?”

            Frypan hiccupped somewhere next to him. “Newt’s always been like that.”  
            “You’re all saying it like it’s a bad thing.”

            “I don’t think it is,” Thomas shrugged.  He shook his head at the canteen as Harriet passed it to him. 

            “Thanks, Tom- Thomas.”

            Thomas turned his head to Newt where the boy was collecting up the cards.

            “I’m getting tired, guys,” Fry stretched.

            “Already?” Brenda asked.

            “Yeah, I think I exhausted myself from that storm.”

            “I know I did,” Harriet laughed.

            “I can’t believe you found a _hole_ ,” Brenda laughed.

            “You know, I was looking at it, I don’t think it was natural.  I think someone made it,” Harriet said.  “A whole part of the ground seemed to lift off like a lid almost.”

            “What, like a hideout?” Newt asked.

            “Yeah, as if someone built it into the ground.”

            Thomas turned to her suddenly, something clicking in his brain. “Harriet, how did you and the girls get through the Scorch to the Right Arm?”

            “Underground… tunnels...” As she said it, she locked eyes with Thomas and he watched the recognition cross her face as well. “You think there are underground tunnels here?”

            “Worth a shot to check.”

            “They wouldn’t show that on any map, would they?” Newt asked.

            “Doubtful,” Thomas shook his head. “You remember where it is, Harriet?”

            She nodded.

            “Would you mind showing us tomorrow?”

            “Sounds like a plan.”

            “I agree with the tomorrow part of this plan,” Fry yawned.

            “Yeah, I could use some sleep,” Matt said before finishing off the last of the canteen.

            “What, no drunk Matt tonight?” Newt laughed.

            “No drunk Matt ever,” he laughed. “Trust me.”

            “Aw, I’d like to see that one day,” Brenda nudged him.

            Thomas watched them exchange a look, but tore his gaze away not wanting to intrude on whatever was behind it. “Alright, bed time.” He stood up and cricked his neck to the side. “I’ll catch you guys in the morning.”

            “See ya, Thomas,” Harriet smiled up at him and it struck Thomas with a good feeling, an acceptance.

            Things were getting better.

            Fry reached down and pulled Newt up standing before he nodded a goodnight to everyone and moved to the next blanket over to get comfortable.

            “Come on, Thomas,” Newt nodded as he started walking off.  “Night everyone.”

            Thomas nodded to the others before jogging after Newt. “Hey,” he started, unsure of where to go from there.

            “Hello,” Newt laughed, glancing sideways at him.  “You know you don’t have to greet me when we’ve just spent the last… well… entire day together.”

            Thomas let out a small huff of a laugh. “No, I know.”

            They reached the end of the row of blankets and stopped.  “Well, I suppose this one’ll do.” Newt crouched down and let himself fall back, lying down on the blanket.

            Thomas looked down at him and met his gaze before shifting his eyes to the blanket next to the one they currently stood on. He gestured to it. “I’ll just… I’ll go there.”

            He took a few steps toward the other blanket when he felt something around his ankle.  He looked down to see Newt’s hand around it, and then looked back a bit to where Newt looked up at him, upside down.  “Already going to sleep?”  
            Thomas furrowed a brow.  “Um, I don’t know. I thought…” He looked across the blankets to where Fry was now sleeping, Harriet was curling up, and Brenda and Matt were in a whispered conversation.

            “I guess I’m not really that tired,” Thomas admitted on a laugh.  He looked down when Newt let go of his ankle.

            “So, sit.”

            Thomas continued looking backward to where Newt was before he sat down and laid back himself, his head falling on the comforter next to Newt’s.  He was instantly reminded of the sleeping arrangements in the cave, when they were head to head facing opposite directions.  It felt like it was so long ago that it happened, even though it had only been a few weeks.

            “Thomas?”

            “Hm?” He shifted his eyes to the side to see Newt’s head turned, facing him.

            “I see wheels spinning.”

            Thomas swallowed. They were lying far too close.  He should have moved over a bit. It would be weird if he did it now though, right? Would Newt be offended? Did Thomas even want to move away? He already knew the answer to that.

            “Thomas,” Newt laughed. “Out with it.”

            “What happened to ‘Tommy’?” The question spilled out, no longer wanting to be swallowed down and ignored.

            When he didn’t get an answer, he shifted his head a little further from Newt’s and then turned it to face him. Newt only looked back at him in silence.

            His eyelashes were so damn long and there were curves around his cheekbones that weren’t there before.  Stress, lack of food, Thomas couldn’t tell.  Perhaps it was just them growing older.  He wondered what differences came over his own face. What differences Newt was seeing right now.

            “You told Matt not to nickname you.”

            Thomas blinked his focus back, watching Newt’s lips move a few inches from him.  “Yeah…”

            “So, I thought maybe…”

            “But you’re different,” Thomas said, dropping his gaze back to Newt’s eyes.

            “Am I?”

            Thomas’ heart sputtered inside of his chest.  Newt was different from Matt – from _anyone_ – in so many ways, but how was Thomas supposed to tell him that? How was Thomas supposed to tell him that Newt was his own category of a person in Thomas’ messed up head.  That in all the scrambling around and blended memories and thoughts, Newt always stood on his own.  He always had.

            “I like it,” Thomas settled on, barely above a whisper.

            Something flashed in Newt’s eyes then, there was a small breath against Thomas’ forehead, ruffling in his hair.  

            “Okay,” Newt said, his eyes never leaving Thomas’, his lips barely moving over the word.

            A silence settled between them, comfortable, familiar, and Thomas just watched the miniscule movements of Newt’s eyes on his own, interrupted sparsely with blinks.  

            “Tommy?”  His voice was low, thick with his accent.

            Thomas fought against the shudder that ran down his spine.  “Hm?”

            “I’m glad we’re here.”

            Thomas blinked, his brow furrowed.  “In the Scorch?”

            Newt let out a small laugh, eyes crinkling so close to Thomas’ face.  “In a broader sense,” he said, turning his head to face the stars.

            Something in Thomas dulled with the broken stare. 

            “I don’t know how to say what I mean,” Newt sighed. “Everything that lead us here, I guess? I mean, that’s not to say I’m glad Minho was taken. Not at all.  And every day I wish I could go back and actually do something to keep it from happening.”

            Thomas looked up to the stars now, pushing the memory from his mind.

            When Newt spoke again, his voice was closer - lower, and even if Thomas hadn’t shifted his eyes to look sideways, he’d have known Newt was facing him again just by the breath against his face, the scent of whatever was in that canteen drifting over.  “But if it had to happen, I guess I’m just glad we’re here.”

            He’d stopped talking, but Thomas’s brain finished the sentence for him.

            _Together_.

            He thought about campfire talks, heads on shoulders, hands grasped and words whispered.  He thought of dark caves, dark buildings, dark skies with bright stars.  He thought of bright lightning and hesitant steps forward, arms around too-thin waists and jackets as blankets.

            He thought of Newt.

            And he thought of himself.

            And he thought of them.

            Together.

 

            When he turned his head, Newt’s eyes were closed, lips parted just slightly, breath even.

            Thomas watched him until he couldn’t anymore.  He let his brain fog over, let his eyes shutter closed and let himself sleep here, head to head, under the stars, with Newt. Together.

 

 

* * *

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*Special thank you to [adam-anellaer](http://adam-anellaer.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for drawing this amazing piece. I cannot express in words how much this means to me. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Short chapter today, but I'm dragged from last week's planning and OTHER things planned that are coming up. Next one should be a bit longer, don't worry :]
> 
> 2\. To all my AO3 readers who might not know, I co-mod a TMR discord that SO many people have joined and participated in sharing writing, art, theories, headcanons, etc. and it's become such an amazing place with new friends and Maze Runner discussions all the time. If anyone was looking for an invite, feel free to DM me on tumblr. My username is Comebacknow. It's a great way to share theories and content and I'd love to get to talk to some of you! Your comments always make me smile.
> 
> 3\. Thank you YET AGAIN to everyone who has kept up with this and followed. You're all absolutely amazing. So many surprises in store for you all <3


	14. On Marks and Molotovs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Needs to Take a Shot

 

            There were only soft hints of the morning light pressing against Thomas’ eyelids when his mind began to wake. The sunrise crept slowly over them, but the world was still dim. Quiet. Resting. He let his eyes open slowly, the sleep still tugging at him, beckoning him back. But his mind stirred on something else.

            Newt slept inches from him, curled on his side now but still facing Thomas. His hand found its way beneath his head, a small substitution for a pillow. He had a habit of sleeping like this. Thomas could recall a night in the Glade, another night lying in the Scorch after escaping WCKD. He didn’t think about why he so clearly remembered the way Newt slept. He didn’t think at all about anything just yet. He just watched, blinking slowly. Blinking slower. Fading.

 

 

***

  
            Thomas felt a small tap on his shoulder and opened an eye. Newt still slept in front of him, curled, the collar of his jacket flipped up above his jawline. Thomas rolled onto his back and blinked at the sun, the silhouette of someone with long hair and something long and thin protruding from their shoulder.

            “Thomas, hey,” Harriet whispered.

            “Mm?” Thomas responded, closing one eye and shielding the other with his hand. It wasn’t _quite_ morning, but the sun rose at an angle that pierced directly into his vision.

            “Come on, let’s talk about this tunnel.” Harriet stood, blocking the sun and giving Thomas a bit of a reprieve.

            “Mm,” Thomas said, dropping his hand. He fought against the clouded pull in his head, the urge to roll back onto his side and drift off again. He’d been dreaming of… what was it? There was wooden slats and hammocks. He remembered smelling grass.

            He heard a goat somewhere in the distance, and a laugh rang out from across the Glade. It was a hand pressed to his mouth and a slight tilt of someone’s head, finger pressed to a lopsided smile. “C’mere, Tommy. Wanna show you something.”

            Thomas had pulled himself from the hammock, let the morning breeze blow against his bare arms. He didn’t bother grabbing the blue shirt. Newt clearly hadn’t, so it must not have been important.

            He followed Newt toward the Maze wall, but the doors were still close-

            “Thomas, let’s go,” Harriet’s whisper came a bit harsher this time, accompanied with a small kick to his leg, and Thomas jolted awake again. Harriet’s silhouette walked off and Thomas rubbed his eyes, pressing his fingers into them to keep himself from drifting back off.

            He propped himself up on his elbows and looked to the side once more before he finally pulled himself up into a seated position. His eyes immediately landed on Newt’s knapsack just a bit away from them. With one glance back toward Newt tucked into the collar of his jacket, Thomas reached toward the sack and pulled it open, immediately finding what he’d been looking for. He pulled it out of the bag and unfolded it. Ignoring Harriet’s hushed _“Thomas!”_ he spread the white tattered blanket over Newt.

            “Finally,” Harriet mumbled as Thomas walked up to her.

            He debated the consequences of flipping her off, but instead turned to see Frypan and Josh standing on either side of her.

            “What is this?”

            “They want in.”

            “In what?”

  
            “Friggin stick,” Harriet mumbled, tossing her head back. “The tunnel.”

            Thomas looked at them again. “Wait, we’re going now?”

            “No,” Harriet said, annoyance tucked closely to her words. “But we at least want to plan it. I’m sure others will want details when we tell them the plan and maybe even want to join.”

            “Hang on,” Thomas said, running a hand down his face. “When was this little group here decided?”

            “When you were sleeping next to your-”

            “Harriet,” Fry nudged her on the arm before turning to Thomas. “We didn’t want to wake you. Me and Harriet were already awake and talking about it when Josh found us and wanted in. We decided to wake you before it got too big. You’re our leader so you have final say, anyway.”

            “What he said,” Harriet sighed.

            Thomas didn’t care about the sigh. Having Harriet look at him as someone she’d follow already jumpstarted his brain into action. He couldn’t let her down.

            Thomas bounced his leg, eyes flicking between the three of them. “Okay listen, this is it then. I don’t want any more people going down there than is necessary. It’s a small, enclosed space and we don’t know what’s down there. I don’t wanna risk getting anyone hurt.”

            “Absolutely agree,” Josh nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

            Thomas turned to him and saw the resolve in his eyes, the armor. “How’s he doing?”

            Josh’s jaw muscles feathered as his gaze dropped, but his eyes were back on Thomas’ a split second later. “He’ll be okay.” He said it like a line, rehearsed.

            Some part of Thomas’ brain was reminded of a day in the Glade, hidden beneath shelter out of the rain. _They’re gonna make it._

He shook the memory from his brain. “Alright, listen. We stick to the four of us. I’ll talk to Vince and get him on board. We’re only down there for a small period of time.”

            “How’re we gonna keep track?” Fry asked.

            Thomas’ leg continued its bounce.

            “I’ll make two torches,” Josh offered. “They burn for about twenty minutes. If we light one at a time that gives us just under an hour. Is that enough? I can make more.”

            “Two is fine,” Thomas nodded.

            “How’re you gonna make a torch?” Harriet looked at him.

            “What do you mean?” Josh furrowed his brow before turning to point to the pile of kindling and wood.

            “That’s not a torch that’s a stick and it’s gonna burn-“

            “I think I know what I’m doing,” Josh interrupted her.

            Thomas watched Harriet’s nostrils flare before he stepped in. “Okay, great. Josh, torch duty. Harriet, you’ve got your shotgun. Any way you can round up a couple daggers, just as precaution?”

            “Sure.”

            Thomas turned to Frypan as she and Josh walked off. “Fry, I need-”

            “Thomas, hang on.”

            Thomas paused and tilted his head in question.

            “You really think he’s gonna be okay with this?”

            “I’ll explain it to him,” Thomas shrugged. “Vince will probably agree anyway.”

            Frypan sighed. “I’m not talking about Vince, Thomas.”

            He swallowed. “I’ll explain it to him, too.”

            “He won’t take it without a fight.”

            “I’ll talk to him, Fry. He’ll understand.”

 

 

            “I don’t understand.”

            Thomas bit down on the sigh that threatened to escape. “I need someone up here in charge.”

            Newt crossed his arms, brows furrowed over dark eyes. “So leave Frypan. I’ll go with you.”

            “Fry wants to look at the structure of it or something.”

            “What about Brenda? She can be in charge. Vince? Joe?”

            “Newt, please.”

            “Oh, bugger off with your _please_.” He looked away briefly and Thomas could see him shifting his weight fully to his good leg.

            “Newt-,”

            “No. Is this payback or something?”

            Thomas blinked. “Payback for what?”

            “For making you stay behind at WCKD.”

            Thomas let the sigh escape now and it was his turn to look away. His eyes found his boots, the scuff marks made in the sand. His voice came out small when he spoke. “No it’s not… _payback.”_ The word tasted rotten on his tongue. The idea that Newt thought he was doing this to spite him…

            “Then what is it, Thomas?”

            Thomas closed his eyes and exhaled a breath through his nose, stilling his legs. He looked back up at Newt. “Please, just stay up here. I don’t know what’s down there.” He swallowed, hoping that would be enough.

            Newt watched him for a minute, brows still furrowed, eyes digging into Thomas’ own. “You think that’s gonna make me feel better about staying up here? You think that’ll make me feel okay about you going down there?”

            “We’ll be fine.”

            Newt opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas cut him off. “Harriet has her shotgun, we all have daggers. We’re gonna be fine.”

            Newt’s mouth thinned in a line.

            “Don’t worry about us.”

            “I’m not-,” Newt looked down at the ground now, cutting his words off. He let a sigh out and Thomas could see frustration creased between his brows when he looked back up. “Nothing I say is gonna convince you, is it?”

            Thomas just shook his head. “You know it won’t.”

            He watched as Newt ran his tongue across his upper lip, pausing in the corner just for a moment before it was pulled back in his mouth, lips closing into a line as he turned away. It was this series of movements that made something scratch at the back of Thomas’ mind. _What was he not saying?_

“Fine.” Newt turned back to him now, face clear of whatever frustration and annoyance was written on it before. Now it was clear indifference. Somehow that stung Thomas even more. They watched each other in silence for a moment before Newt gave a slight nod and turned to walk away.

            “Newt…”

            “It’s fine, Tommy,” Newt called back.

            Thomas pressed his lips together, slipped an exasperated breath out through his nostrils. He jogged forward and grabbed Newt’s arm, turning him toward him. “Hey, don’t do this.”

            “Do what?”

            “This,” Thomas gestured vaguely in the air.

            Newt sighed. Defeated. “I’m not doing anything. You’re right, I’ll stay up here. I’ll keep an eye on everyone. Go down with them.”

            Thomas looked at him for another moment, considered the option of telling Newt exactly why he refused to bring him down there. He swallowed. “You’re okay with this?”

            “I trust you, Tommy.”

            The words washed over him, sunk into his skin down to his bones.

            “Watch out for them.”

            Something about these words, the look in Newt’s eyes, told Thomas there was more behind them. He watched Newt’s gaze drop before he turned away.

            “Newt.”

            Newt paused for a moment before he turned back around.

            Thomas took a breath, swallowed. “You too.”

            Something passed over Newt’s features as his shoulders dropped just lightly. It made Thomas think Newt heard the same _more_ behind his words. They stood there, watching each other, and Thomas felt the change on his skin. The buzzing, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, the urge to move.

            Move.

            Move.

            “Thomas!”

            His heart stuttered as Josh’s voice rocked him back. He looked over his shoulder to where Josh, Frypan and Harriet stood waiting. “Coming now,” he called back. He turned back to Newt and saw his eyes on Josh briefly before they flitted back to Thomas.

            “I’ll see you in a bit,” Newt said before turning away and walking back toward one of the trucks.

            Thomas watched him for a minute before he turned to group with the others. Something tugged inside his chest, pulled, stretched with distance.

            He didn’t think about it.

            “We ready to go?” Josh asked as he reached them.

            “You’re actually going through with this?”

            Thomas turned his head to see Matt walking over, eyes locked on Josh.

            “Matt, don’t.”

            “Josh, stay. I’ll go.”

            “No, not with your shoulder.”

  
            “Screw my shoulder. Are you kidding me with this? What am I gonna say when-,”

            “Matt.” Josh said, and Thomas watched fire burn in his eyes. “I’ll explain it to him when I’m back.”

            Thomas exchanged a look with Frypan.

            “One hour, Matt,” Josh sighed.  
  
            “Less.”  
  
            “It’ll be fine. It’s a tunnel, not a goddamn volcano.”  
  
            “Fuck off with that, you know what I mean.”

            “Matt, drop it.”

            “Josh-“

            “For fuck’s sake, Matt,” Josh sighed before turning to Thomas. “Can we go now?”

            Thomas rose his brows at the sudden attention on him.

            “Do me a favor,” Matt said, eyes still on Josh. “Don’t get yourself turned. I’ll never hear the goddamn end of it.”

            Thomas watched the muscle flicker in Josh’s jaw as Matt turned on his heel and stormed off.

            Josh just pointedly looked at the hole in the ground leading to the tunnel.

            Thomas opened his mouth, but was unsure what to say. Unsure of what even just happened.

            “Men,” Harriet mumbled walking between them, brushing each of their shoulders with her own. She sat on the edge of the hole, adjusted the shotgun on her shoulder, and looked back up to the three of them. “Try not to fall behind.” And then she was gone.

 

            The tunnel was dry, but there was a dampness in the air that continued to remind Thomas that they were underground.

            “Josh get that thing going,” Harriet said somewhere to his right.

            “Yeah I’m trying.”

            “Try faster.”

            “I just said I’m trying.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes in the safety of the darkness and turned around to look toward the opening, a few feet behind them. Fry still stood beneath it looking up, mouth hanging just a bit open, brows furrowed. “Fry!”

            His head snapped toward Thomas. “Yeah, coming.” He glanced once more at the opening before he started walking toward them.

            Suddenly a bright light burst around them, a flame licking the damp air. Thomas turned to see the makeshift torch Josh made out of a stick, an old torn shirt and the some of the fuel from the trucks.

            “Timer starts now,” Josh said, shoving the bottle of fluid in the small pouch on his hip.

            They wandered down the tunnel, frypan leaving a trail of the dehydrated soup behind them, making it seem like an odd orange powder against the dirt of the floor. “See why I hate this stuff. That’s what you guys are putting in your bodies every time you eat it.”

            “Yeah well when you can make us a nice chicken dinner, you let me know,” Thomas mumbled over his shoulder.

            “Hey there’s a split up here,” Josh said turning back toward them. “Right or left?”

            Harriet turned and looked at him.

            Thomas sputtered. “I…why am I deciding? You’re the one who hid down here during the storm.”

            “Yeah, I hid beneath the seal, I didn’t take a tour.”

            Thomas sighed. “Go left.”

            “You’re sure?” Josh asked.

            “No, I have no idea what we’re doing,” Thomas shook his head. “But that torch is already almost done, which means we’ve only got a bit of time left before we have to start the second one and head back.”

            “Should have brought another one,” Frypan said behind him. “We could have split up two and two.”

            “That’s probably the worst idea I’ve heard,” Josh said, eyes flicking over Thomas’ shoulder. “When people split up, they die.”

            “Look, nobody’s gonna die, can we just move?” Thomas asked gesturing to the tunnel.

            “Aye, captain,” Josh nodded before turning into the tunnel.

            The walked far enough for Frypan to open another bag of soup for a trail, for Harriet to adjust her bandana twice. Far enough that the firelight’s reach began to shorten.

            “We should head back,” Josh said. “It looks-”

            There was a sudden groaning sound interrupting him and Thomas’ eyes flicked between Josh’s and Harriet’s.

            “What was that?” Fry asked behind him.

            Thomas waited a heartbeat, then another. “I don’t-”

            It came again, louder. This time accompanied by a dragging sound, scraping.

            Thomas watched as Josh extended his arm further into the tunnel. He cocked his wrist slowly, lowering the torch like a sword, the light slowly spilling down from the ceiling and along the walls and to the floor.

            Nothing.

            “We should go,” Frypan said, tugging on the back of Thomas’ jacket. “Now.”

            “I agree,” Harriet said. In the light, Thomas could see her hand pat her pocket, feeling for the dagger.

            “Alright, com-”

            Thomas’ words were interrupted once more by a guttural sound, gargling, like someone was choking on liquid. His eyes dropped to the floor and suddenly something reached out into the light.

            Thomas stared at it, three long appendages branched out from a small, molted base. It took half a second for Thomas to register what it was – what it _used to be_. And then the fingers curled, scraping against the ground and pulling as another mismatched hand reached forward. Thomas instinctively took a step back, but Josh hadn’t, frozen in fear. The creature pulled forward again.

            No, not a creature.

            Its deformed head pulled up into the firelight, tilting jarringly. It twitched this way and that, a low whine escaped before it collapsed down onto the ground again.

            “Is that…?” Frypan asked.

            “I think it’s dying,” Harriet answered.

            Thomas had to agree, it seemed to have no strength left in it. It was deteriorated, a shell.

            It’s head craned back then and it let out an earsplitting screech. It echoed off the tunnel walls, shot through Thomas’ ears. Thomas had only a moment to take it in – bulging black lines along its hollow gray face, purple half chewed off lips, a missing eye, torn ear and ragged claw marks down its neck exposing parts of the inner body that shouldn’t be exposed.

            No, not a creature.

            A Crank.

            It lunged forward suddenly, tossing itself to the floor as the four of them scrambled back in a rush.

            “Josh, back!” Harriet reached forward and yanked Josh’s arm, throwing him backward into Thomas.

            Thomas helped him rebalance himself and saw the horror carved into his face. Widened eyes, parted mouth. Fear dripped out of the boy as he stumbled backward past Thomas, past Frypan.

            Thomas turned back at the shotgun blast Harriet set off, flinching at the proximity.

            “Thomas the dagger!” She yelled before firing another bullet toward the Crank.

            She hit it twice in its arm and back, but it seemed not to register. The Crank continued clawing its way toward them on its hands, legs bent out of shape, dragging on the floor behind it.

            Thomas reached forward and pulled the dagger from Harriet’s pocket.

            He felt blood instantly. Sticky, dripping. The gurgle of the scientist in his ear. Heard Frypan’s shattered “Thomas!”

            Another shotgun blast.

            And then Newt’s voice, soft in his head. “ _That doesn’t mean it has to own you.”_

Thomas’ fingers wrapped tighter around the hilt, his eyes found the Crank. He suddenly flicked his wrist, the knife twirling once in the air, his fingers catching the flattened sides of the cool blade. And then his shoulder shot forward, the dagger released, and he watched it soar before it embedded itself in the hollow cheek of the crank. Another guttural gargle of a shriek and suddenly a brighter light blossomed on it.

            “Move!”

            Thomas spun out to the side at Josh’s voice and watched as the boy took a step forward, the second torch lit in one hand. Thomas watched him touch the fire to something in his other hand – a bottle with a wet shirt sticking out from it.

            The shirt went up in flames and a second later Josh was hurling it through the tunnel between them. It landed with a crash on the head of the Crank, a shriek sounded out before Thomas watched the entire scene go up in flames.

            The Crank arched back on wrongly bent knees, its arms flailing in flame, shrieking as it bent back on itself. He watched it toss itself against the tunnel wall once, then twice. A sickening crunch sounded beneath the shrieks and before Thomas could watch the rest of the scene unfold, a hand was pulling the collar of his jacket backward. He spun on his legs and ran, their footsteps pounding on the tunnel floor, barely heard above the shrill screams of the burning crank.

            The four of them ran, a now-shirtless Josh leading with the torch, back into the main tunnel. They saw the opening ahead and Thomas felt the relief flood his chest.

            A shotgun blast echoed from above and they skidded to a halt. The wails of the Crank had died down, almost gone now, and they listened above.

            “Was that a-”

            “Shh!” Harriet cut him off and the four listened.

            There was quiet, a murmur of voices, and then another shotgun.

            “That’ll be Bern,” Josh said, a faint laugh following.

            “What?” Thomas asked.

            “Shotgun practice.” He grinned at Thomas. “Does it when he’s mad.”

            Thomas didn’t bother with questions. “Whatever, let’s go.”  
  
            “Wait, wait, wait,” Josh blocked their way with an arm. His eyes flicked between the three of them as he swallowed.

            “What Josh? Out with it.”

            His eyes flicked to Harriet’s. “Just, I don’t think we should say anything up there. About what happened.”

            Thomas blinked, turning to the others.

            “You don’t wanna tell them there was a Crank down here?” Fry asked.

            “I just don’t want to worry them. I mean, that thing was… it was a one off. It was dying. It’s probably the only one down here.”

            “A stray,” Harriet said, and Thomas was shocked to see her nodding in agreement.

            “Exactly,” Josh said. He swallowed and looked at Thomas. “Thomas, I know we need to tell them, but if it was just the one is it really worth getting them worked up about it? If we tell them we came down here and ran into a Crank, it’s done. We’re out of here and we’ll never find out where this tunnel leads.”

            Thomas watched Josh, the pleading in his eyes. His brain swarmed. On the one hand, Josh was right, it would only cause everyone to panic. They’d never see where these tunnels go. He’d never hear the end of it from Vince, from Newt. But that meant lying to them as well.

            “Thomas, these tunnels could lead us to them. Wherever they took them.”

            Thomas swallowed, turned and looked at Fry. Frypan looked as worried as Thomas felt, but his eyes were trusting. Whatever Thomas decided, he was behind one hundred percent. He turned to Harriet, who turned her gaze from Josh to Thomas.

            “Listen, you’re the ones who have people to lie to. But I do think the kid has a point. It was by itself and dying. The way it was screaming, it would have attracted more if they were nearby.” She turned and gestured back in the direction of the tunnel fork. “Nothing’s coming after us. I think it’s safe.”

            Thomas sighed and looked back at Josh. Another shotgun blast sounded from above.

            “Please, Thomas.”

            He exhaled through his nose, leg bouncing. “Fine. Not a word.”

            He watched the relief flood Josh’s face. “Thank you.”

            Thomas just nodded in response. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

            Thomas pulled himself up from the tunnel to the surface and immediately heard Joe’s call out to the others alerting they were back. He let Joe pull him up fully and clap a hand on his shoulder before moving past to help the others.

            Thomas saw Vince call out somewhere beyond the trucks and a moment later, he was walking toward Thomas, Newt following.

            Thomas paused as the others continued walking. His eyes snagged on the wide, clear glasses that rested on top of Newt’s head only briefly before he focused on Newt’s face. Relief. Thomas let it flood his chest. He took another step forward but stopped just as quickly when he saw a flurry of movement fly past Newt.

            “You idiot!”

            Thomas watched Bernard sprint toward them.

            “I’m sorry,” Josh was shaking his head as Bernard reached him.

            “You idiot,” Bernard breathed out again, hands grasping at the boy’s shoulders. And then he was pulling Josh forward, crashing their mouths together.

            Thomas felt something stutter inside of him. That – _that_ was relief. That look on Bernard’s face. _That_ was…

            Thomas’ eyes flicked the slightest bit past the two of them and caught Newt’s gaze. Something clenched at that relief in Thomas’ chest, ripped it in half slowly – torturously.

            Newt dropped his eyes, ran a tongue along his lips, and walked forward. When he looked up again, that relief was gone and replaced with an impassive face. He walked up to Thomas and clasped a hand on his shoulder, and Thomas let himself be pulled forward into half of a hug.

            “Glad you made it back, Tommy.”

            Thomas swallowed something hard in his throat.

            Newt let go of him and greeted Frypan with a hug and then there was a flurry of greetings that suddenly moved too fast and imprecise for Thomas to keep up. All he could feel was a hollow in his chest, a want that ran deep in his bones. A want for relief. For liberation.

            A want for something like _that_.

           

 ***

 

            Another crack echoed around them as Thomas finished his food. He brushed his hands on his pants, turning to Matt. “Was that Newt again?”

            “Probably,” Matt shrugged. “Hasn’t stopped. Not sure why, though. From what I’ve seen he’s got perfect aim.”

            Thomas furrowed his brows. There was no way he’d slept through the noise, no matter how tired he’d been. “Has he been practicing a lot?”

            Matt eyed him now before looking around as if he was looking for a way out. Finding none, he looked back at Thomas. “I mean, you saw him at the Facility, didn’t you?”

            Thomas’ brain jolted.

            “When he went back in for you?”

            Thomas dug back into his brain as far as he could. The dagger, the white coat, the explosion of sound, hands on his arms dragging him away.

            “You don’t remember, do you?” Matt asked him, and Thomas slid back into the present moment, Matt eyeing him over the canteen.

            “No,” Thomas dropped his gaze to his hands. “I don’t.”

            There was silence here and Thomas couldn’t be bothered to look up to see how Matt was looking at him. He already knew the look: pity.

            He stood up suddenly and, without mention, walked off past the trucks, past buildings, to an outcropping. To Newt.

 

            Newt stood with his legs shoulder width apart with one slightly behind the other, arms forward, muscles strained taught. His hands were wrapped around a small handgun that Thomas couldn’t figure out where or when they’d gotten. That wasn’t what was important.

            He could see the small beads of sweat on the boy’s face. The clear glasses over his eyes as they focused on some target ahead of him. Thomas didn’t know what the target was. This wasn’t what was important.

            Newt’s shoulders jutted backward as the pin struck the back of the round, the recoil just barely setting him off, his leg twitched almost imperceptibly. There was a slight twitch to his mouth, his brows still furrowed and creased in the center in concentration. This wasn’t what was important.

            Thomas waited for Newt to fire off four more shots, hitting each target each time. When the gun was lowered, Newt lifted the clear glasses to the top of his head and placed the gun on the wooden post next to him. He turned then and his eyes locked instantly on Thomas’. This was what was important.

            “How long’ve you been standing there?” Newt asked, rotating his shoulder.

            “Not very.”

            “Oh,” Newt nodded. He walked to the side to grab his canteen, and Thomas could see the way he favored his left side now.

            “How long have you been out here?”

            Newt sipped from the canteen.

            “Josh told me Bernard does this to blow off steam.”

            “Yeah,” Newt breathed, lowering the canteen. “He needed it when he found out Josh had gone off.”

            Thomas swallowed. “I’m sorry for keeping you back here.”

            Newt looked at him now, wiping some of the sweat from his face with the heel of his hand. He shook his head. “S’okay, Tommy.”

            “Is it?” Thomas’ eyes flicked to the gun, to the several shot targets, and then back to Newt.

            Newt smiled. “Guess I needed to blow off steam.”

            Thomas huffed a small laugh.

            Newt’s face cleared from the smile and he stepped forward toward Thomas now. “It’s not a matter of leaving me behind, y’know that?”

            Thomas’s eyes flickered between Newt’s.

            “It’s you running headfirst into danger, no matter the cost.”

            “It wasn’t danger, Newt.”

            “You didn’t know that,” Newt shook his head at Thomas and Thomas felt something sharp pierce him in the stare. “You had no idea what was down there. And it’s not the first time this has happened,” Newt finished on a laugh. “You’re always going off on your own and it has to stop. I’m asking you to stop.”

            “I told you I was going,” Thomas said. “I wasn’t alone, either.”

            “But I’m asking,” Newt pointed at his chest now for emphasis. “I’m asking, Tommy.”

            “Asking what? For me to stop trying to find a way to Minho?”

            “This doesn’t…” Newt shook his head. He tossed his hands up and let them drop again. “I don’t know how else to bloody say it.”

            “To say what?”

            Though Thomas’ eyes were locked on Newt’s, he could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

            “I don’t want you away from me anymore,” Newt shook his head. “I don’t want to be away from you.”  
  
            Thomas felt a dam break open inside of him as Newt’s words pushed through. They roared through him, crashed into his bones and muscles, washed over his nerves and tendons, flooded his lungs.

            “I can’t take waiting to see if you’re coming back or not. I can’t take not knowing, and not seeing, and not hearing,” Newt’s voice caught. “I hate it.”

            Thomas felt a surge inside of him, a swell, a rise, a wave.

            And it froze.

            It froze under Newt’s touch as he wrapped Thomas’ fingers in his own, before he slid his fingers up further along his palm, the heel of his hand, his wrist. Thomas felt Newt press his fingers to his pulse.

            He stayed there for a moment before lifting Thomas’ hand and pressing it to his own chest, holding it there for Thomas to feel his heartbeat through the shirt.

            They stood there for heartbeats, for pulses, watching each other before Newt spoke again.

            “And I know you hate it too.”

            Thomas’ fingers curled suddenly in the material of Newt’s shirt and he stilled, waited. He knew this part. He knew this part too damn well.

            The tension, the stares, the wants, the unspoken words and then finally, the interruptions. Every time, the interruptions.

            He waited.

            And he waited.

            But it never came.

            There was no shouted name from the side or from behind a door. There was no sudden storm in the sky, no attack or urgency. There was only him and Newt and his hand clutched in his shirt and Newt’s still on his wrist and their eyes locked on each other’s.

            And there was hesitation.

            And then it was Newt smiling, a small breath exhaled through his nose as he let go of Thomas’ wrist and stepped backward, out of the moment.

            It was Newt turning away and grabbing the extra set of glasses next to the handgun Bernard must have been using. It was Newt tossing them to Thomas and Thomas scrambling to catch them.

            It was Newt pulling his glasses down over his eyes as picked up his gun from the side. He pointed to the extra. “Come on then, let’s see who hits the mark first.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh, ignoring the draining river inside of him. “You know it’ll never be me.”

            Newt looked at him for a moment before he dropped his gaze to the gun in his hand. “I know, Tommy.” He stepped up to his shooting line and aimed. “I know.”

            Thomas watched him fire a round. One after the other after the other.

            He hit every mark every time.

           

           

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. BOY DO I LOVE METAPHORS.
> 
> 2\. I have an obsession with Newtmas sunrises. Take it or leave it.
> 
> 3\. Have some side character drama. 
> 
> 4\. I stared at that picture of TBS at the gun range for far too long. #SorryNotSorry
> 
> 5\. Did everyone see the beautiful artwork done for the last chapter? If you have a moment, please scroll to the bottom of the last chapter and check it out. I'm still in awe. <3
> 
> 6\. Thank you all for your endless support. Sorry this chapter went up late. Been a rough work week. At least I made it!


	15. On Hope and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Run, Thomas. Run.

 

            Some days were warmer than others.

 

            At least two mornings in a row, Thomas had woken up yanking his arms out of the gray hooded jacket he’d started sporting, tugging the chest of his shirt out to relieve the buildup of sweat.  Usually somewhere next to him, Newt had already abandoned the jacket and blanket.

            On this particular morning, Thomas couldn’t get back to sleep.  The sun blazed above and snuck in through the broken windows of the building they camped in.  It brought a dry heat through the doorway, bright rays reaching in to wake everyone.

            He turned to the side, as he did every time he woke up, and saw Newt lying on the comforter on his stomach, an arm bent above his head, facing the opposite direction.  It wasn’t the new sleeping position that caught Thomas’ eye, but the way the shirt snagged up by his neck, bunched around his chest as if he’d slid down the comforter at some point.  The way the shirt hitched up above his waist just a bit, revealing a small sliver of skin on one side, just above the waistband of his jeans. They’d all gotten too thin over the last ten weeks, and Newt’s hip jutted out now from beneath the waistband, small lines bracketing his spine.

            Granted, they’d been eating better since they’d camped in this town.  Found better provisions, better options, but it still wasn’t enough.  The building they’d since been staying in front of doubled as their own shelter and they began to collect inside.  There was a section cornered off for their bags and supplies they’d gathered from the past few weeks from other towns, there was a small area to keep food and canteens piled up for easy access. Everyone seemed to gravitate to their own areas for sleeping, but the blankets were usually kept in one area during the day. 

            Manny and Vince had worked to move some of the leftover furniture in the building to corner off sections for private wash rooms. Nothing more than broken tables turned on their sides, wooden slats piled up together and a dented wooden door they’d scrounged from another building.

            It wasn’t home, but it was a place.

            It was a place for them.

 

            There were others roaming this town, though not often.  There was life here.  There was surviving.  It was a reminder that was bittersweet: that life could and would go on in such a destroyed world.  Once in a while a group would walk past their own.  Nothing would be passed between them aside from eye contact and the acknowledgment of existence.

            Still.

            Thomas agreed with Harriet when she insisted they implement a Night Watch. 

            He pulled himself up from the comforter.  The musty scent of the building was still ever present and he knew he would never truly get used to it, but he could deal with it if it meant not waking up directly beneath the sun.

            He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he dropped them back down toward Newt.  To the small rises and falls of his back as he slept.  Sunlight broke in and one ray in particular shot diagonal across him.  Maybe today they’d patch up the windows.  Or maybe they’d wait another day.  They weren’t pressed for time anymore.

            There had been no word of WCKD, no word of immunes.  Joe had spun the dials on static infested radios, Manny had gone about the town to talk to other groups, Jorge had scoured other buildings looking for any sign of something more than just abandoned humanity. Everyone turned up empty. Every time.

           

            So this was it.  This was what they had.

 

            The trucks were kept in a three-length line between their shelter and the line of buildings across from it.  A far enough distance away, but close enough to be in the proximity.  A blockade, a shield.  A post-apocalyptic front garden fence.  They had schedules of collecting, resting, eating.  They learned, they listened, they taught and let go of stories and memories.  They did what they could to survive, to manage. To live. 

            Thomas pulled himself from the comforter, pausing only when Newt rustled next to him, readjusting.  He pulled his boots on, laced them loosely, and aired out his shirt once more.  He walked to the far closed off corner, grabbed a water bottle and fresh clothing.  Fresh was an exaggeration.  It was found clothing that Jorge soaked in boiled water, rubbed with pressed plant oils he’d scrounged up.  It wasn’t fresh laundry, it wasn’t the same lavender soap he’s used at the WCKD Facility all those months ago, but it was enough. 

            The water from the bottles was always lukewarm, despite keeping it inside in the shade.  They’d spent most of the time boiling all of it in a large bowl-shaped stone Bernard had found, then took turns filling the bottles once the water had cooled enough not to scald them.  Some days, Thomas would have given his left foot for a cold shower – a reprieve from the heat – but this was just as well. 

            He ran a hand through his wet hair as he stepped out of the building, squinting in the sun.  He could already feel the beads of water evaporating from his skin.  He gave it a few more minutes before he tugged the new shirt on.  It was as clean as they could get it, but Thomas’ eyes still snagged on the dried blood stain on the upper right shoulder.  This would have been Matt’s, then.

             It became a circle of sharing the same clothing among them.  They barely recognized whose clothes were whose anymore.  The only things people seemed to have claimed specifically for themselves were the jackets. 

            That and the pair of pants Harriet found for herself. 

           

            Thomas heard a small bark of a laugh and looked up toward the trucks.  With a glance to the side, he could see the tall stick shoved deep into the ground.  It broke the sun’s rays as they beat down and a small thin shadow stretched across the sanded ground.  Vince and Frypan would be back from their supply run soon. 

            “Morning, Thomas.”

            He turned and looked up to see Fran walking toward him, Ian in her arms.  He smiled in greeting as she switched the boy’s position to the other arm.

            “You doing okay?”

            He nodded. “How’s Ian?”

            She smiled down at him and looked back up to Thomas.  “Growing, somehow.  Near eight months.”

            “He’ll be hotwiring in no time,” Joe’s voice came on a yawn from the doorway.

            “Look who it is!” Fran said down to Ian, waving a small hand toward Joe.

            “They still out there?” Joe asked, nodding toward the truck as he walked forward to take Ian in his arms.

            “Yeah,” Fran nodded.  “They could probably come in now though.”

            “I’ll get them,” Thomas offered.  “You two go relax.  Vince and Fry will be back soon hopefully.”

            Fran placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder before she and Joe walked off, whispering something or other in high pitches to Ian.

            Thomas made his way to Jorge’s truck, but paused a few feet from it.  He looked down to the floor, spotted a stone and picked it up tossing it once or twice in his hand to test its weight.  He cocked his arm back and lobbed it up, landing it inside the truck bed with a small thud.

            “What the hell was that?” Matt’s voice rang out.

            Thomas snorted.  “Get up! Watch is over!” He made to turn but smiled to himself.  He couldn’t help it, he had to say it.  “Not that you did much watching, I’m sure!”

            A second later the rock bounced off of his back.

 

            When Fry and Vince came back, they had two boxes of supplies in their arms and one bag slung over Vince’s shoulder.

            “Looks like we got lucky,” Manny said, taking a box from them.

            “Joe’s gonna go wild. Where is he?” Fry asked, setting the box down on the ground and starting to rummage through it.

            “He’s changing Ian, he’ll be back in a minute,” Fran asked, craning her neck.  “What’ve you got there?”

            Thomas watched as Fry unearthed three small, blocky items – wires sticking out, broken bits chipped at corners and bent antennas.

            “Are those comm radios?” Fran nearly lunged forward, taking one from Fry’s hands and turning it over in her own.

            “They were at one point,” Vince shrugged, hands on his hips.  “Think he might be able to do something with them?”

            “He could certainly try.”

            “If anyone could, it’ll be him,” Matt said, rolling his shoulder and wincing.  “You find any- nice, thanks.”  He took the small bag from Vince.

            “I’m not saying the aloe is fresh, but I’m sure Jorge can get something out of it for you.”

            “Whatever helps the sting, man.”

            “Thomas, you’ll be happy about this one.” Fry nodded at him.

            Thomas furrowed a brow and stepped forward. Frypan struggled to detangle something from the mess of items in his crate before he reached over and held out a folded case to him.

            Thomas reached forward, confused.  The material was rough and thick.  It took a minute for him to find where the thin rope was tied, keeping it closed.  He crouched down and pulled the strings, let it unfurl onto the ground.  Inside was a set of three daggers, rusted.  The handles were chipped, blades a bit dulled, but Thomas’ eyes snagged on the curve of them, the structure.

            He looked up to Frypan, who was grinning back at him.  “Nice, right?”  
            “Ah, maybe Thomas’ll actually have a shot at beating me now,” Manny laughed.

            Thomas turned to him.  “Are you kidding me? Everyone agreed that I won last time.”

            “Not everyone,” Brenda interjected.  “You clearly stepped over the line.”

            “Like you were paying attention,” Thomas snorted.

            “Let me see that one,” Manny nodded down to one of the knives and Thomas passed it up to him, just noticing the rope wrapped around the hilt.  “This is paracord.”

            “Paracord?” Matt asked.

            “It’s incredibly strong,” Manny answered, unraveling it.  “You can hold damn near anything with it.”  He handed an end to Matt who took it between his fingers, testing the material.

            “This could come in handy for lugging more supplies here.  It’s what I used on our sheet to carry everything through the Scorch.”

            “If it means me not carrying a door on my back again, I’m in,” Vince huffed a laugh.

            “Morning all.”

            Thomas turned instantly at Newt’s voice.  His hand was scratching at his hair, which stood up sporadically.  Thomas bit down on the smile.  He also bit down on every other feeling that rose in him at the sight of Newt shirtless, small shimmers of sweat across his chest from sleeping in the heat of the building.  “What’s all this, then?” he asked.

            “Just the guy I was looking for,” Vince nodded, opening the bag on his shoulder.

            Newt dropped his hand to scratch at his chest, brows furrowed.

            Thomas watched.  He was curious about what Vince was going to give Newt.  He was curious about that and that only.  Thomas watched.

            “Two things,” Vince groaned, pulling the first out. “Technically three, I guess.”  He handed over a jumbled pile of strips of materials that Thomas couldn’t make out from his angle crouched on the floor.

            Newt took the pile from him and detangled it in his hands, mouth turned down in concentration.  A moment later, a pleasant surprise flashed on his face.  “No way,” he laughed.

            Thomas stood to get a better look. 

            “I’m sure you can adjust them to fit those toothpicks you walk on,” Vince laughed.

            “They’re great, Vince,” Newt laughed.

            Thomas watched as Newt leaned down to stretch one of the thick lines of fabric around his jeans right at his thigh.  He fastened it and stood, revealing a small holster. 

            “The other one is broken yet, we’ll have to fix the fastener.  But it’ll do.”

            Thomas looked up from the holster and met Newt’s eyes.

            “Nice, yeah?” Newt asked.

            Thomas blinked and nodded. “Yeah.”

            “Give him the other thing,” Fry said, and Thomas pulled his gaze over to Fry.

            “This was Frypan’s idea,” Vince laughed.  “I thought it was a little strange, but hey.  He knows you better than I do.”

            Thomas’ eyes found Newt again, who was looking at Fry with a brow creased.

            “You’re gonna laugh when you see it,” Fry said.

            Thomas watched Vince hand over a sliver of a chain, dropping it in Newt’s hand.  There was a small second of confusion and then a smile spread across Newt’s face at some memory.  “Where in the world did you find one of these?”

            “What is it?” Brenda asked, stepping closer.  Thomas followed behind her to look over her shoulder.  The chain was long and at the end was a small, thin cylinder.

            “It’s a capsule,” Newt laughed.

            “A capsule for what?” Brenda asked.

            “Memories,” Fry answered.

            Newt laughed.  “It’s a long story.”

            “Basically, Newt’s a sappy shank,” Frypan laughed.

             “Oi!”

            Something flipped over in Thomas’ chest as the smile on Newt’s face now, the laugh that accompanied it.  He made a note to ask about the story later.  To find out what brought this lightness to his eyes.  What about this tiny capsule necklace made Newt laugh like that, made his mouth curl up.

            “Hey,” Harriet called over to them from the other side of their little camp.  “Food’s about ready.”

            “Alright, we’ll go through the rest of this later,” Vince said, lifting the crate.  “Fry grab that one, let’s take them inside.”

            The group began to disperse, but Thomas watched as Newt stared at the small capsule in his hands still.

            “So, what’s the deal with that?”

            Newt looked up at him briefly before dropping his eyes back to it.  “It’s nothing really, just stupid.”

            Thomas waited, but Newt only slipped the chain into his pocket.  “I should go rinse off.  Don’t wanna spoil anyone’s appetite.”

            Thomas snorted.  “Yeah, good idea.”

            Newt walked off into the building, one holster still around his leg, the other in his hand, a bit of the chain still dangling from the pocket of his jeans. 

            Thomas was starving.

 

***  
  
            The morning blended into the afternoon.  Newt, Bernard and Harriet spent most of their time to the far side assembling new targets for practice.  Thomas kept gravitating in that direction, but finally locked himself down at Manny’s side a bit closer to camp.

            “Move your leg out a bit more.”

            Thomas looked to his right to eye Manny’s stance: left leg bolted on the floor ahead of him. He adjusted his own to mirror him.

            “Okay hang on, too much,” Manny laughed and stepped to him.  He crouched down and shifted Thomas’ foot backward a few inches. “Put your weight on your right leg, stand straight.”

            Brenda tossed the other two knives to the side and pulled her legs up on the crate she was balanced on, sitting cross-legged. “I want to watch this.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes at her before he adjusted his stance.  Manny turned his shoulders slightly, eyeing his stance.

            “Okay, the power comes from your dominant side, so keep your weaker shoulder forward.  When you step to the line, angle your body straight and push with your shoulder.”  He demonstrated by moving Thomas’ shoulders this way and that.

            Thomas nodded to show understanding.

            “Alright? Try it out.”

            Thomas got into position.

            “Wish I had some popcorn for this,” Brenda snorted somewhere behind him.

            “Cool it,” Thomas shot back on a smile.

            “Let’s go,” Manny clapped. “You get less than sixty seconds to set up.”

            Thomas turned back to the target, focused.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Manny laughed.  “What is this?”

            Thomas looked down to his hand and a laugh cracked out of him.  “I was so focused on my footing I didn’t even think of the knife.”

            “That’s how people get killed, Thomas,” Brenda added.

            “Brenda, can you not?” he laughed, adjusting his grip on the blade of the knife.

            “Here,” Manny reached forward, sliding Thomas’ fingers along the blade.  “Three here on this side, thumb here. Remember what I said about the balanced weight.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Handle’s heavier, throw by the blade.”

            “Right.  When you’re ready.”

            Thomas took a breath and eyed the slab of wood propped up about seven feet from him.  He pulled his arm back and exhaled as he reached forward, stepping up and releasing.  The knife soared, hilt over blade for one turn, and embedded itself into the bottom right corner of the wood.

            “Alright,” Manny clapped. “Not bad.  We’ve gotta work on aim, but you’ll get there.”

            “Get there?” Thomas laughed. “I hit the target closer than you last time!”

            “You got lucky last time.  Doesn’t mean you know how to aim.”

            Thomas let an exasperated sigh escape.

            “You said you wanted to learn how to hit the mark,” Manny shrugged. “Did you change your mind?”

            Thomas looked up at Manny.  His eyes briefly flitted past him to the group in the distance, firing rounds at their own makeshift targets.  He watched Newt fire at a thin wooden beam and hit it twice.  He lifted his glasses on his head and smiled at his work. 

            “No, I didn’t,” Thomas shook his head looking at Manny again, then back to his own target.  “I want to get this right.”

           

***  
  
            It was just before sunset when Thomas spotted Frypan and Jorge by the trap door to the underground tunnel. 

            “What’s that about?” Newt asked nodding over to it.

            Thomas shook his head, leading the way over.  “Who knows with them.”

            Newt snickered somewhere behind him and Thomas let the sound curl up inside of him.

            “What’s going on?” Thomas asked crouching down next to Jorge.

            “Trying to see how this was constructed,” Jorge said, eyes locked on the edge of the door in his hands.

            Frypan was running a hand along the ground’s edge where it dipped into the tunnel.  “When we were down there the other day, I saw these small hinges over here in the corner.  This was obviously man-made.  Just trying to figure out how they got it into the ground.”

            “There’s another piece of wood that’s buried underneath the ground here,” Jorge reached past Thomas to knock on the floor.  Sure enough, beneath the dirt and sand, he could hear a faint knock on wood.  “So that’s what this piece here is connected to,” he gestured to the door. “They covered it with dirt and sand, but I wonder if there was a way to get a layer of… _something_ attached to it.”

            “What?” Newt asked. “Like the actual dirt from the ground?”

            “Exactly.”

            “To conceal it more,” Thomas nodded.  “I get it.”  
            “Like a strip of cloth or something that we could cover the wooden slat with,” Frypan added.

            “That’s not bad, _hermano_ ,” Jorge sat back.  “It’d take out the chance of someone feeling the wood beneath their boots if they walked over it.”

            “Remind me again why you’re looking into this?” Newt asked, brow raised.

            Frypan shrugged.  “If we’re here for a while, it’d be good to have a hideout.”

            “From the other people in town?” Thomas asked.

            “From bergs,” Jorge answered.

            Thomas eyed the opening again.

            “See, here’s my thing,” Frypan said, settling more comfortably.  “This door only goes up.  Which is fine and works great.  But what if we could make one that went down instead? One that went into the tunnel.”

            Newt snorted. “Since when are you interested in trap doors?”

            “Since we found one,” Frypan laughed.

            “It’s a good idea,” Jorge tilted his head.  “One that opens to the inside instead of outside.  But we’d have to find a way to keep it from dropping open under the weight of someone walking over it.”

            “We could set up something like a pulley,” Frypan added.  “Maybe something that only opens the doors if you pull the string or something?”

            “We have that paracord,” Thomas shrugged.

            Jorge rubbed a hand along his jaw.  “We’d have to create some sort of mechanism for it.”

            There was a beat of silence in which Fry and Jorge stared at the door.  Newt and Thomas exchanged a glance.  “Well,” Thomas started.  “We’ll leave you two to this.  You seem to have a better idea of what you’re trying to do.”

            “A slingshot effect!” Fry snapped his fingers, looking at Jorge.

            “Might be onto something there,” Jorge grinned back.

            Thomas exchanged another look with Newt.  They stood and walked off and Thomas would have bet his throwing knives that Jorge and Frypan barely registered their exit.

            “How’d shooting go?” He asked.

            “Harriet beat me again,” Newt chuckled.  “One day I’ll best her.”

            “Good luck,” Thomas snorted.

            “Hey,” Newt shoved his shoulder.  “How’s your knife throwing?  Able to keep your arms from flailing about yet?”

            Thomas stopped walking and tilted his head.  “My arms don’t flail.”

            Newt raised his brows at Thomas in response, a small smile on his face.

            They stood there a minute as Newt seemed to let the silence speak for him.  Thomas broke it with a laugh and a shake of his head.  “You’ll see, I’ve been throwing straighter and straighter.”

            Newt ran his tongue along his teeth, seemingly trying to conceal a smile but failing.  “Whatever you say, Tommy.”

            It was Thomas’ turn to shove Newt’s shoulder and Newt stumbled back just slightly, laughing.

            “I’ve gotta talk to Vince about the maps.”   

            “Again? You find anything new?”  
            Thomas shook his head.  “No, just finishing the tunnel detail. Figuring out options.”

            Newt eyed him for a minute before he spoke.  “You’re not putting too much of yourself into this, right?”  
            “No, Newt,” Thomas sighed.

            “Hey, hey, hey,” Newt held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not gettin’ on you about this.  I’m just asking.”

            “No, I know.”

            “I care about you, Tommy. Don’t want you runnin’ yourself into the ground again.”

            Thomas’ eyes flickered up to Newt’s. His head replayed the words.

            “Just take it easy,” Newt nodded.

            “I am,” Thomas nodded.

            “Good that.” Newt cleared his throat.  “I told Joe I’d help him out with the radios a bit.  Really wanna get those things working.”

            “The comm radios?”

            Newt nodded, squinting over to where Joe was detangling a handful of wires, as usual.

            Thomas shook his head.  “It’s a wonder he still does that after the lightning storm.”

            Newt huffed a laugh.  “He doesn’t seem like the type to let anything stop him.  Look how he was after the cave.”

            Thomas nodded in agreement. 

            “I think it has a lot to do with Fran and Ian, honestly.  Gives him an extra bit worth fighting for.”

            Thomas smiled.  “Good bits.”

            Newt turned to Thomas now.  There was a breath of silence, a heartbeat.  “Yeah, exactly that.”

            They looked at each other. Something was there, Thomas was sure of it. Something was there just beyond them.

            Another breath of silence.  Another heartbeat.

            “Thomas!” Vince’s voice rang out from the building’s doorway.

            Newt’s mouth curled up on one side as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Go talk to Vince about the maps, Tommy.  See ya in a bit, yeah?”

            A small laugh escaped Thomas’ mouth through his smile as he wondered if Newt and he were sharing the same joke.  He nodded.  “Yeah.  Good luck with the radios.”

            Newt gave him another nod and a smile before he turned away and walked off.  A warmth washed over Thomas that had nothing to do with the dipping sun.

 

***  
  
            Thomas leaned over the imbalanced table, eyes scanning the spread-out map.  There were sheaths of torn paper that they’d collected from scavenges.  A few broken scattered pencils they were able to scrounge up were held in a small metal cup.  Something about it reminded Thomas vaguely of the supplies in the Map Room back in the Glade. 

            Harriet grabbed another sheet of the scrap paper and a pencil.  She marked a bullet point.  “Alright, we left off at the North mountain.  I think we’ve covered what that passes.  We should discuss this West trail.”

            Thomas scratched his eyebrow as he followed the line they marked to show the possibilities of where the left tunnel led. 

            “You said there were no other curves in that tunnel after the first one?” Vince asked.

            Thomas flitted his eyes up to Harriet.  Her look said exactly what Thomas was thinking: _do we tell him?_

            “No,” Thomas answered aloud.  He looked at Vince then.  “No, there were no curves.  Not from what we could tell.”

            Vince nodded, looking back down at the map.

            “Alright, how far about do you think you got?”

            “It couldn’t have been much longer than ten minutes since the fork,” Harriet said, scratching notes down on the paper.  “We were still on the first torch that Josh lit.”

            “Were there any markings or anything unusual to maybe mark where you were last time? That way if we can get another group down there, you can track from that point forward?”

            Thomas’ memory jogged with images of the Maze.  The way they used ivy and cracks to mark the passages, creepers and small bits of stone on the ground.  “There were a few scrapes on the floor, but nothing distinct.”

            “Scrapes on the floor? Like what?”

            “Scratches,” Thomas said before he could stop himself.

            Harriet’s pencil stopped moving and she looked up at him.

            “Scratches? Like small ones?” Vince asked, eyes still on the map.  “From what? Rats?”

            Thomas held Harriet’s gaze.  “Yeah.”

            “Hmm,” Vince drummed his fingers on the table.

            Thomas’ chest swirled and tightened. 

            Harriet’s eyes flicked with something like pleading and then shifted to Vince quickly before she looked back at Thomas.  Thomas swallowed.  She wanted to tell him, and so did Thomas.  But something had to be done before they could tell Vince.

            “Hey, uh.  You guys look this over.  I’ll be back in a second,” Thomas rapped his knuckles on the table before he backed away and toward the door.

            “Everything alright?” Vince looked at him over his shoulder.

            Thomas nodded. “Gotta buy a horse. Or whatever,” he gestured vaguely.

            Harriet snorted. 

 

            The static reached Thomas’ ears before he looked up, before his heart stuttered at Newt’s furrowed brows, frown causing a crease between them.  He was turning a radio over in one hand, a thin metal rod in another that he used to prod something.  There was something about seeing him so concentrated on one thing.  Newt had a tendency to be aware of his surroundings, to be able to pull everything around him into one minute.  Thomas almost thought he could have surprised him, but he should have known better.

            “Out with it, Tommy,” he said, eyes still focused on the piece in his hands.

            Thomas bit down the smile.  Of course he couldn’t surprise him.  He couldn’t hide from him.  He couldn’t hide anything from him.

            A high pitched squeal came from the speaker in Joe’s hand.  “Might have some action here!”

            Thomas watched as Joe held a wire in place with one hand and stretched back to grab a handful of elastic bands.  He shook one free, the others falling to the ground.  He steadily wrapped it around the warped wire and then doubled back to wrap it around the whole radio.  He let go, and the signal dropped.

            “Fuck, should have wound it tighter.”

            He repeated the process and Thomas switched his gaze to Newt, who was watching the steps with a strict concentration.  His hands idly worked on the wire on his radio, even though his eyes stayed on Joe’s.  Thomas was, yet again, impressed by Newt’s ability to focus on one thing while working on another entirely.

            There was a sudden snapping sound, Newt’s head shot back as he sat up, Joe choked out another swear word, and Thomas watched as one of the elastic bands snapped and shot past him about ten feet.

            He turned back to Joe, raising his brows.

            “Clearly that one was too tight,” Joe sighed, shoulders dropping.  The signal was far gone, replaced with a high-pitched laugh from Newt.

            “That thing shot out of your hands like a bullet.”

            “Slingshots,” Joe smiled suddenly, eyes wide, and Thomas was suddenly reminded that Joe was only a bit older than them, somewhere in his twenties.  In another world, he was still considered young.  It was a jarring thing to see that come out sometimes.

            “Slingshots?” Newt asked.

            “Fuckin’ slingshots,” Joe nodded, his smile growing as he picked up another elastic band.

            Thomas cleared his throat and pointed to Newt. “Can I borrow him before you slingshot his eye out of its socket?”

            Joe snorted.  “All yours.”

            Newt huffed a laugh in Joe’s direction before he put the radio down next to him and stood.  “Where to?”

            Thomas motioned for Newt to follow and they walked off, leaving Joe to… whatever he was doing.

 

            Thomas led the way toward the trucks, nerves spiking.  He wiped his palms on his jeans, convincing himself that it was the heat that was making him sweat.  He opened the back door of Vince’s truck and slid across the bench, motioning for Newt to follow.

            Newt eyed him for a minute, standing still outside of the truck.

            “Come on,” Thomas gestured.  If he hesitated any longer, Thomas’ resolve would crumble.  He had to do this now before he changed his mind.

            Newt glanced around him again before he slowly sat down in the backseat.  His hand rested on the door as he looked at Thomas, a brow raised.

            Thomas only nodded.

            Newt closed the door.

            Thomas watched Newt’s throat bob with a swallow as he shifted in his seat.  “What’s goin’ on, Tommy?”  His voice was low and Thomas thought he detected a hint of a shake in it.  What the hell was _he_ so nervous for?

            Thomas pushed the thought aside.  There’d be time to figure that out later.  Right now, he had to take care of this.  He didn’t bother stopping his bouncing leg, even when he saw Newt’s eyes snag on it.  He took another breath.

            “Tommy?”

            “Newt,” Thomas said.  He took a breath and Newt looked up to him.  There was something in the way he looked at him though that stilted Thomas’ thoughts for a second.  It was… strained.  Braced.

            “Newt,” Thomas started again.  “I need to tell you something.”

            Newt nodded, his eyes locked on Thomas’.  “Go ahead.”  It came out on the hint of a breath.

            Thomas swallowed. “There was a Crank in the tunnel.”

            Silence.

            Stillness.

            Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest, the only proof that they hadn’t just frozen in time.

            “What?” Newt said, more than asked. His voice clearer now, any hint of breathlessness gone.

            Thomas willed his hands to stop shaking.  “When we went in the tunnel? Me, Harriet, Fr-”

            “Yeah, Thomas. I know when you went in the tunnel. It was a week ago.”

            Thomas swallowed. 

            “What I didn’t know is that there was a Crank down there. So I’m asking, again, for you to repeat that.  I’m sure I heard you wrong.”  His eyes were dark, digging into Thomas’.  It was nothing like the strain in them just minutes ago.  This was a different strain.

            “It was only one.”

            Newt blinked at him.

            “I’m pretty sure it was dying already.”

            Newt blinked again, but continued not to speak. 

            Thomas swallowed and spilled it out.  “It couldn’t even stand, I think it’s legs were broken, honestly.  It was barely even anything.  We didn’t want anyone to worry so we figured it would be fine to keep it quiet, that it was just a stray. But I can’t take keeping it from you anymore.  I don’t think I want to keep it from anyone anymore. “

            Newt blinked.

            Thomas’ leg bounced. “Can… Can you say something?”

            Newt didn’t say anything.

            Thomas ran a shaking hand down his face.  “Listen, I know it was stupid and I know I should have told you right away. I just… You were already worried. I didn’t want you to get mad. I thought-”

            “You didn’t want me to get mad?”  Newt’s voice was a gunshot in the small confines of the truck.  It rattled Thomas’ bones. “You kept it from me because you didn’t want me to get mad?”

            Thomas shifted, swallowing. “It was stupid, Newt. I know.  Josh said it-”

            “Josh?”

            “Yeah, he wanted to keep it quiet. He said it was only a stray and we shouldn’t worry anyone.” Thomas stopped abruptly as Newt finally broke his stare.  He saw Newt’s shoulders lift and fall with a deep breath.  He shifted in his seat and Thomas could feel the anger resonating through him.  “Listen, I know it’s stupid. I hated myself for not telling you.”

            “Thomas,” Newt held a hand up, silencing him.

            He watched as Newt seemed to run over Thomas’ words in his head, register them, and understand.  They sat in a weighted silence for more than Thomas would have liked.

            Newt dropped his hand finally, but still didn’t look at Thomas.  His eyes were anywhere except Thomas.  “I don’t know which part to even respond to first.”

            Thomas bit his lip to keep from talking, knowing he would probably only make it worse. Instead, he waited. 

            After another minute, Newt started nodding, more to himself than Thomas.  He seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion in his head. 

            Thomas wished his goddamned leg would stop imitating the elastic bands Joe had been messing with.

            “Thomas,” Newt started, and the name was life a knife to his gut.  “I’m going to say this once, and only once, so I need you to bloody listen and pay attention.”

            Thomas nodded, his heart pounding inside of him.

            Newt’s eyes shifted but still didn’t quite reach Thomas. His voice was low and calm when he spoke. He said each word clearly, separately, as if to make sure Thomas heard each one individually.  “I haven’t known you for long.  In fact, among the people closest to me, I’ve known you the least.  It’s a strange situation for all of us because none of us know what the hell anything was like, what _we_ were like, before WCKD took us.  All we know is what we remember.  And I only have a very limited storage of memories of you to grasp from to determine what kind of person you are.”

            Thomas’ stomach clenched, the knife slid down his gut and he felt split open.

            Newt continued.  “In those few memories, I’ve learned that you’re not the most organized thinker.  You act on instinct; move first and ask questions later.  It’s something I’ve actually come to admire about you, if I’m being honest.  But there’s a line to this.  It’s a very thin line that separates admiration and frustration.”

            Thomas swallowed, reminded himself to inhale, then immediately forgot as Newt’s eyes suddenly flicked up and locked on his own.

            “And right now, you are bloody pushing it.”

            They sat there for another moment, eyes locked on each other’s.  Thomas’ leg had frozen still at some point that he couldn’t recall. His whole body had frozen. 

            “So I need you to convince me, right now, not to get out of this truck and close this shucking door on everything between us.”

            Thomas waited, his heart a jackrabbit inside of him.  His head jerked forward in a miniscule nod.

            When Newt spoke again, his mouth curled around the word, accent bursting through in one syllable. “Now.”

            “Newt,” Thomas breathed, and then everything spilled out.  “I know I should have told you sooner, believe me. I know.  I wanted to.  But you were so worried about me going down there in the first place and then you looked so relieved when we came up and I just didn’t want to break that. Everyone was relieved.  I told myself I’d tell you the next day and then it just kept getting pushed back and I just was afraid too much time had passed and maybe it wasn’t even worth mentioning at that point since nothing’s seemed to have happened since.  Like I said, it was a stray. One Crank on its own, dying.”  He paused and took a breath. His voice broke over the word. “Please.”

            Newt took a deep breath, relieved Thomas from his darkened stare for a minute before looking back at him.

            “Newt, we weren’t in danger.  It was weak it couldn’t have done anything. Besides, with us all being immune it wouldn’t have matter-”

            “I know _we’re_ immune, Thomas, but not _everyone_ is.”

            Thomas felt his brows twitch.  “But it was only the four of us.”

            “Not everyone is,” Newt repeated.  “Josh was the one who asked for you not to tell anyone?”

            Thomas nodded, head spinning, something in his chest recoiling.

            “And did he say why?”

            “He said he didn’t want anyone to worry.”

            “And did you think of why he might’ve said that?”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “No,” Newt nodded slowly.  “No, of course you didn’t.”

            “Newt, don’t say it like that.”

            “How would you like me to say it?” Newt asked.  “How would you like me to say that you didn’t think of the danger you’re putting the others in?”

            “I did think of it, Newt,” Thomas said, biting back on the harsh words.  “I thought he was immune.”

            Newt nodded.

            Thomas took a deep breath.  “Newt, listen, I’m not good at this stuff. You said it yourself.  I think big picture.  That’s why I have you.”

            “Don’t do that, Tommy,” Newt sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands.  “Don’t use our… Don’t use us as a defense.”

            “I’m not trying to,” Thomas shook his head.  “I’m trying to explain myself and I’m doing it the only way I know how.”

            Newt looked at him, and his eyes were lighter this time, didn’t hold that tension in them from earlier.

            “Newt it’s always been you and me, you know that.  You’ve always grounded me that’s just how we are.”

            He watched a muscle feather in Newt’s jaw.

            “I’m not saying that I can’t be held responsible, but I need you to just see it from my side for a minute.  No, I didn’t know that about Josh. I didn’t sit down and talk to him.  I didn’t sit and talk to Matt, or Harriet, or anyone like you did. And I probably should have, yes.  And I’m trying to work on that.  You’re teaching me to work on that.  But, Newt,” Thomas huffed on a laugh now, feeling a rock form in his throat as he spoke.  He strained to keep it back.  “I have a lot to work on. And I am _trying_.” His chest caved, the word breaking out of him.  He took a quick, sharp breath trying to steady himself. “I need you to see that, even if I mess up.  When I mess up. I am trying.”

            Newt swallowed, nodding slowly.  “Yeah, I see it, Tommy.”

            The name worked its way into Thomas’ chest, forcing a threatened sob back down.  Newt took a breath and Thomas could hear the shaking in it, the release.  “Thomas, you’re my best mate. I say that with everything in me. And it hurts when I find out that you can look me in the eye for a week and keep something from me.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze to his hands briefly but forced it back up to Newt.  He nodded.  “I’m sorry.”

            “I know, Tommy, so the lying needs to stop,” Newt said just above a whisper.

            “I wasn’t trying to-”

            “Lying, omission, whatever you wanna call it,” Newt interrupted. “It stops now, d’you hear me?”

            Thomas nodded. “I hear you.”

            Newt took another breath.  “Okay,” he nodded.  “Let’s move past this.”

            Thomas wanted that more than anything, but hesitated.  “Can we?”

            Newt looked up at him, eyes scanning his face.  He gave a barely noticeable nod first, and then followed it with a more pronounced one.  “Yeah, Tommy. As long as you quit acting like a Shank and talk to me like this more.” He reached forward and pushed Thomas’ shoulder lightly and Thomas nearly broke under the touch.  Relief flooded his entire system.

            “Of course. No more secrets.”

            “No more secrets,” Newt repeated.

            Their eyes snagged on each other’s and a sudden silence weighed down on the inside of the truck.  Something twisted in the air between them.  Something lived in the quiet between them, thrived there.  Hid there. Stretched between them.

            Newt opened his mouth to speak, ran a tongue along his lips, worked his jaw over something unsaid, and closed it. He swallowed and seemed to try again.  “Josh found out during the Raid up in the mountain.”

            Thomas was jarred back from his thoughts.  “How?”

            Newt took a deep breath as the air in the truck turned over, changed.  Shifted.  “When WCKD was there taking whoever they could get their hands on, they grabbed Bernard.  Josh had barreled into them, fought him out of their grasp.  That’s where he got that nasty scar on his jaw,” he motioned to his own face, but Thomas could only focus on the lightness that was slowly dripping back into Newt’s voice, into his eyes.  “They grabbed him instead, but when they scanned his neck and the guard called out his code, one of the others called over saying he was a variable and to leave him.  They tossed him aside and moved on.”

            “A variable?”

            Newt shrugged. “We had Winston.  I guess they had a variable in every Maze.”

            Thomas let a breath out through his mouth.  He recalled the fear in Josh’s face when they saw the Crank in the tunnel, the way Harriet pushed him behind her.  “How can they do this?”

            Newt just shook his head.

            “Bernard knows, then?”

            “Yep,” Newt nodded. “He was bloody pissed when he found out Josh had gone.  Almost ran right down after you himself.  Took a swing at Matt and everything.”

            Thomas let out a small whistle. 

            “Can’t blame him,” Newt shrugged.  “Knowing he’s not immune?  I’d have done the same.”

            Thomas resisted looking at him now, resisted thinking about what that sentence implied.  Resisted thinking about Bernard and Josh’s relationship.  Resisted thinking about his and Newt’s.

            “Why would Josh go down there if he knew he could be infected?”

            Newt adjusted his position as he took a breath.  “You do crazy things when your friends are in trouble, don’t you? I mean, look at us.  If you weren’t immune you know right well you’d have gone down there if it meant finding a possible way to Minho.  I’d have done the same. Frypan.  We all would.  It’s just who we are.”

            Thomas turned the sentence over in his brain.  He knew he was immune.  He knew by the way Brenda had healed from whatever Mary had given her from his blood up in the mountain.  But his thoughts also caught on another memory from months ago.    


            _“I thought we were all supposed to be immune.”_

 _“Not all of us.”_  
  


“Look, Tommy,” Newt spoke, breaking him out of his downward spiral.  “I see your wheels spinning, so let me stop you right there.  This whole immune, non-immune, Crank, not-a-Crank, whatever you’re thinking on – drop it.  It’s not important.  What’s important is that we’re all here working toward the same goal.  We’re here to get our friends back, to stop WCKD. And we’re all going to make it to whatever Paradise is out there.”

            Thomas nodded, trying to avoid the slope of negativity in his head.

            Newt’s hand reached out and clasped on Thomas’ shoulder, shaking it a little, bringing his focus up to Newt.

            “I promise you,” Newt said through his smile.

            “You can’t promise me that.”

            “No,” Newt’s hand dropped as he straightened.  “No, I guess I can’t.  But I can promise that we’re going to try.  I can promise you that we’re going to put every ounce of strength we have into this.”

            Thomas nodded again, looking at Newt. 

            “It’s you and me, Tommy. That’s what I can promise you.”

            Something tugged on Thomas and he let it stretch, his heart pounding inside his chest. He swallowed. It tried to pull him forward.  Maybe this time he’d let it.

            Newt exhaled through his nose and blinked away the eye contact and Thomas felt whatever it was that stretched between them recoil sharply back into Thomas’ chest, bouncing back against his heart.

            Newt’s hand found the handle, but before he could pull to open it, Thomas’ hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, felt him freeze under his touch.

            He could feel a deep pulsing beneath the skin, snapping against his own fingers where they wrapped around it.  Newt’s eyes were on their hands before he looked up to Thomas.

            Thomas was distantly aware of how close they were now.  How close he’d moved to keep Newt from leaving the truck.  He didn’t know why he kept him back.  Didn’t know what he wanted to say.

            There were a million unsaid things hovering in the bubbled air in the truck, and once that door opened, Thomas knew they’d escape. 

            He swallowed.  “I’m sorry.”

            Newt’s brows flicked in question, but he stayed silent.

            Another hammered pulse beneath his fingers.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

            He watched something falter on Newt’s face, but in a flash, it was gone.  A smile lifted his lips up on one side, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed it.  “It’s okay, Tommy.  I’m just glad you told me now.  Better late than never, I suppose.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            He nodded. 

            He let go of Newt’s wrist and sat straighter. 

            Better late than never, he reminded himself. 

            But then, there would always be later.

            He gestured for Newt to open the door.

 

 

            They walked back from the truck in silence under the night sky, but they paused when they caught sight of the camp.  Everyone had gathered around another fire that Josh had set up, and there was a faint chiming, something thumping just softly. Thomas glanced once at Newt before he turned back to the scene.  What had actually caught them was the movement.

            Joe was twirling Fran beneath his arm as they stepped in time to the music. Brenda, Jorge and Matt doing some three-person shuffle on the side that had Brenda laughing wide.  Bernard kept pulling Josh toward them, but Thomas could see Josh shaking his head and gesturing to the fire.

            “Are they…?” Thomas asked, head tilted.

            Newt laughed beside him.  “I take it Joe found a signal.”

            Thomas let a laugh break loose before they walked closer to the camp.

            “Thomas! Newt!” Brenda called. She jogged toward them and hopped over a small pile of kindling before grabbing both of their hands.  “Joe found a signal!”

            “Yeah, we see that,” Thomas laughed.

            Her cheeks were red right at the tips and there was an air about her Thomas didn’t recognize.

            Newt laughed. “Are you okay, Brenda?”

            “Shut it. At least I’m not pouring water on peoples’ heads.”

            “Right,” Newt nodded.  “I’m off to kill Frypan.  This one’s all yours.” Newt lightly pushed Thomas forward into Brenda and started to walk off.

            “Hey!” Brenda reached out grabbing his arm.  “You’re not getting off that easy.”

            Newt shook his head.  “Can’t, sorry,” he shrugged and shook his leg out.  “Bloody thing wouldn’t cooperate.  I’ll watch from the side.”

            Brenda rolled her eyes.  “You’re boring.”  She turned back to Thomas.  “Come on!”

            “What is happening?” Thomas asked, flicking his eyes between them.  Brenda just dragged him forward, past Newt’s smirk.  It dawned on him a second later. “Oh, no no no no no.” He said, digging his heels into the sand.  “There will be none of that.”

            “Oh, come on.”

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Ah, get a drink in him first,” Frypan walked over, pushing a tin cup into Thomas’ hand.  There was a warmth coming from it and he lifted it to smell it.

            “What the hell is this?”

            “Cider, I think?” Frypan shrugged. “I don’t know, Jorge heated something up.  Beats Gally’s brew any day.”

            “Right,” Newt nodded. “Speaking of that, I have plans to kill you, still.”

            Frypan giggled and Thomas’ brows shot up.  “Are you drunk?”

            “He sure is,” Brenda laughed. “Should’ve heard the things he was saying abou-“

            “Brenda!” He shouted, much too loudly for Thomas’ eardrums.

            She cackled, flinging her head back.  “Come _on,_ Thomas.”

            “Go dance with Matt,” Thomas said, sliding his hand from her grasp.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

            “You promise?”  
            “Sure, definitely.”  
            He watched as she turned and dragged Frypan back toward the radio.

            Newt crossed his arms and tilted his head, looking at Thomas.

            “What?”

            “You know you’re gonna have to dance now, right?”

            “Nah,” Thomas shook his head, gesturing to a set of upturned crates for them to sit on.  “She won’t even remember.”

            “True, sure,” Newt nodded, sitting next to him.  “But you promised.  Don’t wanna go breaking that.” He rose his brows at Thomas above a hint of a smirk.

            “Oh come on, don’t do that.”

            “What?” Newt feigned innocence.  “I’m only saying.  Your promise to me would hold a lot more weight if I saw you actually fulfill other ones first.”

            Thomas didn’t even bother to hide the smile on his face.  “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me do this.”

            “I’m not the one who made a promise,” Newt shrugged.

            “I don’t even know how to dance.”

            “Better drink up, then, yeah?”

            Thomas held his gaze for another minute, unable to look away from the mischief in it.  He lifted the cup and took a sip of the cider.  It was warm, sweet but something spicy in it and a harsh flavor nipped at his tongue.  He felt it sink low into him, spreading through his body.

            “Good?” Newt asked.

            Thomas held it out to him.

            Newt eyed it for a moment before he finally gave in and took it from Thomas.  He sipped it and passed it back.  “Good,” he concluded.

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Do you want it?”

            “No, no! All yours, that one.  I’ll get my own in a minute. You need some courage, it seems.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes.  “I’m gonna kill Brenda.”

            “Great, Frypan will have some company.”

            A laugh broke out of Thomas’ mouth as he finished another sip.  He looked at Newt, but Newt’s eyes were elsewhere. He followed his gaze and landed on Joe and Fran, continuing to be the only good dancers in the group.  Thomas looked back at Newt and then dropped to his leg.  “Does it hurt?”

            Newt looked at Thomas.  “To dance? Yes. It’s painful. I’m awful at it and it probably would hurt anyone else to watch more than it would hurt me to do. Drink your drink.” He laughed as he stood up, shutting the conversation down.

            Thomas watched as Newt walked over to where Vince and Manny conversed over a makeshift table they’d brought outside.  There was a smaller, contained fire next to them and on it sat the stone basin with steam rising from it.  He watched some exchange of words and Manny, balancing Ian in one arm, clapped Newt on the shoulder and laughed.  Vince took a long sip of his drink before tossing back his head and finishing it. 

            There was something about the whole exchange that warmed Thomas – or maybe it was the cider.  But the exchange definitely had something to do with it.  It was the ease of it, the smiles and laughs and comfort.  Brenda danced not far from them with a drunken Frypan and a bit to the side of them Jorge and Matt were in some deep conversation with bright smiles on their faces.  Joe seemed to have traded out Fran and was spinning a reluctant Harriet under his arm, clearly having more fun than her.  Still, Harriet was smiling.  Josh and Bernard were sat just beyond the fire, Josh tending to the fire as Bernard continued poking him with a stick until Josh finally grabbed it, broke the stick in half and tossed it in the fire. Bernard’s mouth fell open in mock offense, but Josh caught it with his own - morphed it into a smile beneath his.

            “Ask a pretty girl to dance?”

            Thomas turned suddenly at the voice and saw a hand extended toward him. He looked up to see Fran smiling down at him.  She nodded toward the group.  “Come on, live a little.”

            Thomas lifted his cup. “I think I need a bit more courage.”

            “You? Lacking courage? Now I don’t believe that for a second.”  She retracted her hand and lowered herself to sit next to Thomas.  “That’s not the same boy who came up to me and Manny in the mountain.”

            Thomas laughed.  “Courage is different than acting rashly.”

            “Acting rashly?” She looked at him.  “You think walking down to two strangers to scope them out before letting them reach your friends is acting rashly? You think coming down with just a dagger in your waistband wasn’t courage?”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at her.  “How’d you know I had a dagger?”

            “I have eyes,” she shrugged. “Someone’s approaching me, I’m immediately assessing strengths and weaknesses, weapons and armor.”

            “I feel like you have stories.”

            “I have sagas,” she laughed.  “I didn’t learn to hotwire a car because I was bored, after all.  And all that medical stuff I know? You could thank my aunt for forcing me and my cousin to sit down and study with her all the time.  He was actually the first person I stitched up.”

            Thomas felt a pang in his chest.  Was. Past tense.

            “Granted,” she continued, “I’m also the one who broke his arm in the first place.”

            Thomas choked on a laugh.  “What?”

            She shrugged. “He was a tiny thing.  Short and bone-thin.” Her face was lit with a memory.  “He did love dancing though,” her eyes slid sideways to Thomas.

            He let out an exaggerated sigh.  “Fine, fine.”  He drained the rest of his cider, let it burn through his bones.  He stood and held a hand down to her.

            “Nice!” She popped up, grabbing his hand.  “Joe’s gotta take my watch shift tomorrow, now.”

            “Wait,” Thomas laughed, stepping over the kindling to where everyone was dancing. “You made a bet on me?”

            “He was sure I wouldn’t convince you.”

            “Out with it,” Joe said walking over.  “How’d she do it?”

            She looked at Thomas, but he just smiled back at her.  “Taught me about courage.”

            Joe laughed, shaking his head.  “One dance, kid.  Then she’s mine.”

            Thomas laughed and let Fran pull him forward closer to Brenda, Fry and Jorge.

            He’d never danced before, not that he knew of at least, but it wasn’t a hard concept.  It was easy to let Fran lead, to let Brenda lead when she eventually stole him away on the next song, to let the extra cup of cider that Fry pressed into his hand loosen his muscles.

            He was laughing and laughing at some weird shoulder move Frypan was doing, at a joke Brenda made.  He was spinning her beneath his arm and then spinning beneath Matt’s arm.  He was dancing in a circle of the small group, laughing at Joe’s wiggling shuffle that sent Harriet tossing her arms in the air and walking off to get another drink.  He was spinning Brenda out again and then closer to him, the two of them turning and trying not to trip over themselves. He was laughing, laughing, laughing.   
  
***

 

            When the cider was gone and the fire had dimmed to low embers, Thomas started to feel his focus come back.  It wasn’t that his focus was gone, it was that distraction had taken over.  Distraction and just beneath that, there was a happiness Thomas hadn’t felt before.  Something loose, airy.  Something that allowed him to breathe.

            Still, something nagged at him.

 

            When it was clear that Frypan and Jorge would _not_ be doing their Night Watch duty, Thomas offered to take their place.

            “You sure, Tommy?” Newt tilted his head at him.

            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded.  “I’m good with it.”  More than that, Thomas wanted to do it.  He wanted to revel in this, sink into this feeling.  He wanted to hold onto it as long as he consciously could. 

            “I can go with you,” Harriet shrugged.

            “Harri, sleep,” Newt shook his head at her.

            “No, really, I don’t-”

            “It’s okay, Harriet,” Newt said again, a bit harsher.  “Sleep.”

            A smirk formed on her face as she feigned a yawn.  “Boy, am I tired.  Catch you guys at sunrise,” she laughed, turning.

            Brenda sniggered.

            Newt sighed.

            Thomas blinked.

            “I’m gonna go check on Fry, I’ll meet you at the truck, yeah?” Newt nodded at him, walking backward toward the building.

            Thomas nodded.

            “Hey,” Brenda tapped his arm.

            “Hm?”

            “You doing okay?” Despite the amount of cider she drank, Thomas could tell she was present, focused.

            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded. “I am, actually.”

            “You mean that?” She narrowed an eye.

            “Yes,” Thomas laughed.  “I had a lot of fun tonight, actually.”

            “Okay,” Brenda nodded.  “Good.”

            “Are you?”

            She shrugged. “As happy as I’ll ever be, I guess.  Got an extended life, trying to make the most of it while I can.”

            Something pierced Thomas.  Reminded him that not all of them were immune.  “We’re gonna get you to the Safe Haven, Brenda.  You’re coming with us.”

            She waved a hand.  “Let’s not do this now, Thomas. You’re killing my buzz.”

            He laughed and slung an arm around her, pulling her in for a hug and resting his chin on her head.

            “Ugh, this is almost worse.”

            “Shut up, you love it.”  
            She laughed into his chest before he let go.  “You know,” she started, looking up at him.  “You look different tonight.”

            “What?”

            “You do.  You’re, I don’t know, relaxed.  It’s a nice change.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “I think that’s the cider.”

            “Maybe,” she laughed. 

            “You looked relaxed too,” Thomas folded his arms.  “You looked real relaxed when you were dancing wi-”

            “Goodnight, Thomas.”

            He barked out a laugh as she rolled her eyes, smiling.  “Night Brenda.”

            She paused walking and turned back to him.  “You know, I did learn something about this whole incident,” she gestured to her leg where the Crank bit her all those months ago.  “It’s not that often you get a second chance.  Sometimes you just need to do things on the first.” 

            Thomas felt something winding in his chest.  He offered a small smile and a nod.  “Get some rest, Brenda.”

            “You too.” She smiled back at him and turned off toward the building.

  
***  


            “Oi! Tommy!”

            Thomas turned and saw Newt lifting himself up to the edge of the truck bed.  He snorted as the boy struggled to pull himself up.  “What is wrong with you?”

            “Just help me, you twat.”

            “What did you just call me?” He laughed, pulling Newt over the truck edge and catching him in the stumble.

            “Listen,” he held up a hand.

            Thomas looked at him waiting.

            Newt just took a breath and eyed the bed of the truck as if he was deciding where to set up camp.

            “I’m…listening?”

            Newt looked up at him. “To what?”  
            Thomas clenched his jaw and strained to keep the laugh behind his tightlipped smile. When he was sure it wouldn’t burst through, he spoke. “Newt, are you drunk?”  
            “What?” His voice cracked over the word and suddenly the reddened face made sense.

            “I’m so glad I have great backup in case we get attacked tonight,” Thomas laughed.  “Lie down before you hurt yourself.”

            “That’s rather mean,” Newt said, crossing his arms.

            Thomas bit down on his smile.  “Come here,” he waved him over.

            “No,” Newt backed up a step into the edge of the truck bed and Thomas lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders to steady him before he back-flipped over the edge.

            “Remind me to get that recipe from Jorge,” Thomas laughed, pulling Newt to the center of the truck. “Now sit.”

            Newt eyed Thomas before spinning round to face the other direction.  He sat down cross-legged.

            Thomas laughed and turned to face the other direction, sitting back to back against Newt.  He bent his legs in front of him and rested his arms on his knees.  He felt Newt turn suddenly as if he were facing him.  “You’re turning away from me now?”

            Thomas huffed out a laugh.  “Better for us to keep an eye on the surroundings.  You just keep an eye on the building.  I’ll keep a lookout this way.”

            He felt Newt turn back and settled against him.  The smile was practically plastered to his face, but he couldn’t get rid of it.  He resolved to let it stay.

            They sat in silence for a bit and it was only when he felt the slow rises and falls of shoulders against his back that he realized Newt had fallen asleep, his head leaning back on Thomas’ shoulder.

            He let the smile stay.

 

 

            He let it stay for so many things.  For a family that grew closer each day.  For friends that taught him and learned from him.  He let it stay for an idea of safety and an idea of a future.  He let is stay for hope and for… happiness.  Yes, he knew there was a still a world out there filled with darkness.  A world with danger and threat.  Captivity and brutality.  But, tonight, there was happiness.  Thomas had spent so long chasing freedom and survival, but he’d never thought to chase happiness.

            The Scorch was harsh.  It was gruesome and gritty, it was harsh and it got under your skin in your veins.  The sand clawed its way across your skin and the heat beat down on you every chance it had.

            Somehow, through all of that, they had found this place.  This small bubble of calm.  A bubble of firelight and music and comfort.  When he was taken by WCKD, he had experienced a hot shower, a full meal, a mattress on a bed frame.  He’d experienced fresh cotton clothing, a toothbrush and real soap.  But here, all of that meant nothing.

            Compared to all of that, this was worlds better.  Thomas would have crossed universes to land here every single time.

 

            He felt, more than heard, Newt stir awake.  Felt Newt’s head lift from his shoulder, sat up to stretch and then resituated himself against Thomas’ back.

            “Morning,” Thomas muttered over his shoulder.

            “Is it?”

            Thomas looked up at the dark sky, broken only by a glowing sliver on the horizon.  “Probably soon.”

            “Mm.”

            “You feeling alright back there?”

            “Knackered as all hell, but yeah, I’m alright.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “I swear I barely understand you half the time you speak.”

            “Slim it.”

            “Somehow that one I got.”  Thomas reached forward and grabbed his canteen of water.  He stretched his arm back behind him to Newt.

            “Thanks.”

            He listened as Newt opened the canteen lid, the sound echoing over the dim music still playing in the distance from camp from whoever fell asleep and left it on.

            Thomas’ leg bounced.

            “S’goin’ on, Tommy?”

            He heard the canteen close.

            “Nothing, why?”  
            “I can feel your body shaking,” Newt laughed.  “I don’t even have to turn ‘round to know your leg is doing that thing it always does.”

            “That thing it does?” Thomas laughed, stilling his leg.

            He felt Newt’s body start shaking behind him and he laughed.  He glanced over his shoulder to see Newt bouncing his leg in mockery.

            “Alright, alright, I get it.”

            Newt chuckled, his body resting back against Thomas’.  He shifted again against him.  “You looked happy.”  His voice was quiet behind Thomas.

            “When I was bouncing my leg?”

            Thomas received a backhanded hit to his shoulder in response.  “You know what I mean.”

            Thomas shrugged against him.  “I was.  I am.”

            “Good.”

            Thomas looked at his hands. “Are you?”

            “I am.”

            “Good.”  He swallowed.  “How come you didn’t dance? Brenda was upset.”

            “Ha,” Newt laughed.  “Told ya, Tommy. Can’t do it with my leg.”

            “But you can run?” Thomas chided, pressing back just a bit to egg him on.

            “I can run when I have to,” Newt laughed. “If I’ve got a reason to.”

            Something spun inside of Thomas’ chest, yanked the words out of him.  “So, you’ll dance if you have a reason to?”

            He felt Newt’s shoulders lift and drop behind him. 

            That feeling of a stretch came back, something reaching.  Pulling him and pulling him.  He let his body follow and swayed.

            He pressed his back into Newt’s and swayed just a bit to the right before pulling himself back and leaning toward the left.  He tilted to the right again, back to the left.

            “Tommy?” Newt laughed.

            “Mmm?” To the right, and back to the left.

            He felt Newt laugh against his back and suddenly he felt him swaying in tandem with him.  To the right, and back to the left. To the right, back to the left.

            Something in Thomas’ chest was pulled back and let go, flicking against him.  He smirked and shifted his shoulders in mockery of a move Frypan had done a few hours prior.

            Newt laughed against him and the vibration dug into Thomas.  “You’re not even swaying to the music anymore.”

            “How would you know?” Thomas laughed, pulling the move again with a bit of an exaggeration. “You don’t even dance.”

            “Bleeding hell,” Newt laughed. 

            Thomas felt an arm snake beneath his own, linking their elbows, as Newt took control of the swaying, keeping them in time with the distant music.  Thomas let himself fall back into it, letting Newt lead. He leaned his head back just slightly, felt Newt’s just to the right of his, and leaned a bit on him.  And there they swayed, back to back with heads resting against each other, a single elbow linked with the other’s.  It lasted until it didn’t.  Until the sways became smaller and smaller.  Until they finally came to a resting stop, and they sat still against each other.

            “So I kept my promise,” Thomas said suddenly, eye on the faint pink that was threatening to push the night sky away.

            “Hmm?”

            “To dance.”

            “That’s right, you did,” Newt laughed.

            “Does that mean you believe me now?”

            “I always believe you, Tommy.”

            He felt Newt shift a bit against him.

            “You didn’t believe me when I said Frypan would overturn the Cider bowl.”

            Newt laughed against him.  “Okay, that I didn’t believe, you’re right.”

            “See?”

            “Well, come on, now. It’s Frypan, he’s usually quite careful!”

            “He backed a truck into a mountain.”

            “Tommy, be nice,” Newt said, but his laughter betrayed him.  “I swear he wouldn’t have knocked it over had you not said anything.”

            Thomas turned his head just the slightest bit in question. “What do you mean? How did me saying it make it happen?”

            “I don’t know,” Newt shrugged against him.  “You spoke it into existence.”

            “I spoke it into…” Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Is that what I did?”

            “Yep,” Newt nodded.

            “You’re the one who said Matt would almost set his arm on fire.”

            “That’s not speaking anything into existence, that’s just knowing the type of person Matt is.”

            Thomas snorted.

            “Besides, if I could speak things into existence, I’d be doing it a lot more often with much more important things.”

            “Yeah?” Thomas laughed. “Like what?”

            “Like finding ingredients for Frypan to make his stew.”

            Thomas let the laugh bubble out of him and into the night this time.  “What else?”

            “I’d talk a good book into existence.  Have something to pass the bloody time here with.  A proper bed, definitely.”

            Thomas huffed another laugh against Newt’s back.  He tried to think of things he would have spoken into existence, but the list would never end.

            When Newt spoke again, his words were softer, quieter.  “I’d speak words that could bring Minho home.”

            Thomas let the words hover for a moment before he spoke.  “Home,” he repeated.

            “Whenever we find one.”

            Thomas let the idea wash over him.  Sure, they had set up a camp here in the Scorch, but the idea of a real home?  The idea of a place you could go to feel comfortable, a place you could rest.  Somewhere that made you warm and safe.  Somewhere that blocked out the madness of the world, somewhere that could shelter you from the negativity.  Somewhere that you could smile, that kept you from caving in on yourself.  Somewhere that took care of you. Thomas opened his mouth to speak.  Closed it. Felt that familiar pull and flick of something in his chest.  He opened his mouth again.  “Do you think it’s possible for a person to be someone’s home?”

            He felt Newt still his movements behind him. He felt his heartbeat with another directly after. He couldn’t tell whose was whose anymore. Another heartbeat. Another. And then Newt was moving.  Thomas felt his hair brush against his neck as he turned.

            Thomas stayed still, even as he felt Newt’s body move and angle toward him, their arms unlinking.

            Thomas closed his eyes, clenched his teeth. His nerves burst inside of him.

            “Tommy?” Newt’s voice was low, a hint of a shake in it.

            He opened his eyes, his back still to Newt. “Come on, Newt,” he said on the crest of a whispered laugh.  “Don’t make me say it.”

            He was answered with silence, weighted.

            Thomas swallowed.  He could feel Newt’s eyes on the back of his head, watching him. Waiting for him.

            Thomas closed his eyes again, took a breath, and opened them.  His heart drummed inside of him, that band pulling, ready to flick back against him again.  No, no, no.  Now wasn’t right. It’s wasn’t right.  Not yet.

            He leaned his arms on his bent knees, focused on his hands.  Why did he say anything? Why did he say it?  Now wasn’t the time, it wasn’t right. _Please, just sit back._

            He heard a small exhale. A tiny huff of a laugh.

            And then there was movement. 

            Thomas felt the warmth of Newt against him pull away as the boy stood up, and he looked over his shoulder at him. 

            “I’ll be back.”  His voice was low, words clipped.

            “Where are you going?”  
            He held up the canteen in response, not even a glance back at him.  “Water.”

            Thomas watched as Newt started to unhook the gate of the truck bed.  Pushed once to find it locked.  Pulled it, hit the lock and pushed.  Again, no avail. The tried a third time finally pushing hard enough that the gate gave way and bounced down.  He jumped down from the truck, landed hard into the sand, and walked off.

            Thomas watched him go, a silhouette against the pale pink of dawn.

            That band inside him pulled, stretched.

            He felt the twist in the air, the tension direct itself to the increasing distance as Newt walked further and further away. 

_There would be time later, there would be time later, there would always be time later._

It stretched, further, pulling taut.

            _“It’s not that often you get a second chance.  Sometimes you just need to do things on the first.”_

            His heart pounded beneath his chest, three times too fast.

            _No, not yet. Now was not the time._

            He choked on a shallow breath.  His veins were bursting, nerves frayed, skin buzzing.

            He swallowed.

            Newt walked.

            The band pulled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            And it snapped.

 

 

 

            Thomas blinked and he was hurdling the edge of the truck, boots pounding into the sand. 

            _Run, Thomas. Run._

His legs burned, his lungs burst. 

            There wasn’t later. He didn’t care about later. He didn’t care about second chances, or third, or any.  He didn’t care about timing.

            He cared about now.

            He skidded to a halt, spinning around Newt to face him.

            “Tommy?”

            “It’s you,” he breathed.

            “What?”

            “It’s you.”

            Newt’s eyes flicked between Thomas’.  “What’s me?”

            “Everything. All of it.  Everything.  Later and now and… and first and second chances and timing and-,” Thomas’ breath shortened. His hands were shaking at his sides from the vibration of his heart pounding against his chest. His leg was bouncing, his head was spinning and words were spilling out of him that he didn’t even register.

            “Tommy, mate, Tommy,” Newt’s hands were on his shoulders, stilling him.  “Breathe, take a second.”

            But Thomas was done with taking any more time.

            He reached up, grasped the collar of Newt’s shirt, and pulled him down.

 

            It was a wrecked crash.

 

            It was now and later and before. It was first, second, seventh, tenth chances. It was interruptions and hesitations. It was rushed and it was practiced and it was a mess of so many things. 

 

            It wasn’t perfect by any means.  It was chapped and scarred lips, it was clumsy tongues and scraped teeth. 

 

            It was a split-second moment and it was over before it started. It was Thomas falling back from it, hands still white-knuckled in Newt’s shirt.

 

            His eyes flicked between Newt’s when they opened. Newt didn’t move. There was just the faint thud of the empty canteen falling to the ground.

 

            Thomas’ heart sputtered inside of his chest, his chest caved, his brain fogged and his throat closed.

 

            “I…,” he breathed out, shallow.  He swallowed, near choking.  “I’m sorry.”  He uncurled his shaking fingers from the shirt.  “I don’t…”

           

            “Sorry?” Newt breathed.

 

            Thomas blinked, ran a tongue across his lips. His breath was short, his chest tight.  There wasn’t enough air in the world, in the universe.  There would never be.

 

            And then there was a hand at his waist and Thomas was frozen.  Every part of him stilled and zeroed in on that touch. On light fingers finding rest on him, just a thin layer of fabric going alight between their skin.

            “For what, Tommy?”

            Thomas’ focus shifted to Newt’s eyes on his.  Soft, nestling deep within his own. His mouth curled into a hint of a smile. 

            “For taking so long?”

            It was a javelin to his chest, jumpstarting his heart into moving again. Jumpstarting everything to move.

            He let himself be pulled closer by the waist as Newt’s other hand curled around the back of his neck and brought him forward.

 

            And it was easy.

 

            It was comfortable, restful.  It was warm and safe and blocked out the madness of the world around them. It was shelter from negativity and Thomas could feel Newt smiling through it and he nearly caved in on himself at the thought, but it held him up like it was home.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this one. :]
> 
> 1\. Setting up the Scorch - I love the idea of Thomas finally resting in place. They've been moving non-stop and planning for ten weeks and now Thomas has finally resolved to settle down. They've started building a sort of place here for themselves, even if they all know it's just temporary. It was a reprieve. They have a building that they've sort of claimed as their own and are setting it up to make it as comfortable as they can. It's progress and a way of a reset, starting over. The Night Watch is obviously a necessity in this case. They're camping here for a bit, leaving and gathering supplies, etc. They constantly have two people on watch throughout the night in the trucks while the rest of them sleep inside.
> 
> 2\. Presents from Fry and Vince - Supply runs are very much a part of the daily routine. Scavenging, etc. You may have noticed a few familiar items here. ;]
> 
> 3\. Thomas' Lessons - Welcome to my headcanon in that Thomas has a Thing(tm) about throwing things. I don't know where this completely stemmed from (and it definitely wasn't from the throwing knife scene in American Assassin definitely wasn't that) but it works. I mean, as we've seen, Thomas does have decent aim when he's got a plan..
> 
> 4\. Jorge, Fry and the Trapdoor - Who the hell wouldn't be interested in a trapdoor they just found? This obviously comes into play in the future.
> 
> 5\. Vince, Harriet, Thomas and the Maps - Yes, they're stagnant and resting, they're taking their time. But that doesn't mean they still can't be aware of their surroundings. Thomas never really stops planning, let's be real. The boy loves his maps.
> 
> 6\. The Confession - This conversation was one that OBVIOUSLY had to happen. It not only shows Thomas and Newt's dynamic and trust, but I wanted to show a bit of struggle on Thomas' end of keeping something from Newt. He's trying not to act on his own anymore. He has Newt, he knows he does. Lying to him didn't sit right with him. 
> 
> 7\. Immunity - Again, movie!verse, so there are multiple Mazes. That being said, the three boys were in a Maze together. It's likely that Thomas' group wasn't the only group who had someone(s) not immune. It hurt me to do, but this is something that has been stuffed in my chest forever. (It did feel good to let it out..)
> 
> 8\. The Dance Scene - This has been planned since before this fic even began. I needed light-heartedness, relaxation. I needed them to let loose and also, I just love dancing. I have a specific song in my head they danced to, but I'm curious to hear what you all hear - if anything - in that scene.
> 
> 9\. Drunk!Brenda and Drunk!Frypan - Just fun to add them in. :]
> 
> 10\. The Truck Scene - Well, I don't wanna ruin this scene with notes. Just have it as is.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH to everyone who's been keeping up and reading. All the kudos, comments, shoutouts have been AMAZING and I am floored literally every time. You are all more amazing than words. kjnfglgkgjsht <3


	16. On Wondering and Working

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: God Dammit, Thomas. Stop Thinking So Much.

 

            Newt’s mouth was warm against his.

 

            It was slow – steady – and Thomas bowed into it, let his mouth follow Newt’s each time he beckoned.  He could taste the last bits of cider on Newt’s tongue, the sweetness of it tinged with that familiar mint that seemed to follow him everywhere, that seemed to be part of him.  Part of him like Thomas was now: traces and brushes.

            It sunk through him, warm and full, and curled comfortably around his spine and ribs, around his tendons and muscles. It became part of him.  They became part of each other.

            They closed off on a shared breath, foreheads pressed together.  Thomas’ hands had found their way to Newt’s sides at some point and his fingers were digging into him, blunt nails fighting to break through the thin fibers of the shirt.

            There was a ghost along his mouth at the absence of Newt’s own, and Thomas ran a tongue along his lips to chase it away.

            Newt’s hands were a steady weight on Thomas to keep him grounded, to keep him still.  There was a small squeeze against his hip, only the slightest bit of pressure.

            “Tommy?” Newt’s voice was quiet, cautious. 

            Thomas opened his eyes to it.  He could feel Newt’s eyes on his in such close proximity, but kept his gaze trained on Newt’s mouth instead, watched the way it worked over his words, the way it turned up on one side.

             “Your wheels are spinning,” he let out a small laugh and it was enveloping. 

            Thomas closed his eyes, wanted nothing other than to draw more out of him.  “Pretty sure they’re off the rails, actually.”

            Another small laugh.

            Thomas felt Newt pull his head back and it took every muscle in Thomas’ body to keep his own upright.  He opened his eyes now and looked up at Newt’s, still so close to him though off in the distance behind Thomas.  There were colors in them now that made them dusted, honeyed around a small darkness.

            “It’s almost morning.”

            Thomas looked away from the sunrise in Newt’s eyes and tilted his head up to the sky.  It was still dark ahead of him – indigos and purples spotted with stars – but above him was a fading pink, a rose gold wave pushing that darkness back.

            “Almost,” Thomas repeated to the sky.

            There was another small press of fingers against his hip before Newt’s hand was gone entirely. Before his other hand slunk back from its place on Thomas’ neck. 

            Thomas brought his focus back to Newt.

            “We should get back,” Newt said, voice still quiet. “The others will be up soon.”

            Thomas didn’t count the subtle shifts in Newt’s eyes as they flicked back and forth between Thomas’.  He didn’t count the shallowed inhales or barely-there exhales.  He didn’t count the times that Newt’s body moved as he breathed beneath Thomas’ fingers, nor the heartbeats pounding in his chest and ears and entire being.  Thomas didn’t count the time.

            He waded in the way Newt’s hands were around his wrists, unfastening them from their hold on him.  He let himself slumber in the way Newt never took his eyes off of him as he stepped backward, drawing Thomas with him.  The way that Newt’s eyes seemed to crinkle in a smile even though his mouth barely twitched, finally letting go of Thomas’ wrist and turning to walk toward camp.

            Thomas gravitated.

            They walked in the quietness of the morning.  There was a faint noise in the distance like a door closing and the soft purr of the radio from camp that had been left on overnight, but overall it was quiet.  The firewood still gave off the faint scent of smoke and it mixed with the sweetness coming from the small tin cups left out on the table.

            Thomas felt a small tug on his sleeve as he was steered to the upturned crates.  He took his seat facing the charred wooden remains to the night.  Newt was next to him, but he was turned on the crate facing Thomas.  Something stirred inside Thomas’ chest suddenly, hairs on the back of his neck standing up. 

            He felt the change in the air, the tenacity of the moment demanding his attention.  Thomas knew he should turn, he should look to see what Newt wanted to say.  Something buzzed inside of him, kept his head forward.

            He heard, more than saw, Newt open his mouth to speak.  Heard the silence come out like its own word before it was swallowed up again behind a set jaw.  Newt exhaled through his nose, short and dismayed.

            He knew.  Thomas knew he should turn, he should address the damaged air.  But speaking now felt foreign.  Words were nothing between them now and Thomas didn’t know where to go from here.  He itched to turn, to tilt his head back and angle it against Newt’s.  He itched for that minted warmth, the soft graze inside his mouth.

            He was already forgetting.

            He didn’t want to forget.

            He wanted to kiss Newt. Again, and again, and then once more.  But something nagged at him, running a long nail down the back of the memory.  _Does he want you to?_

            Thomas tried to remember the moment, the entirety of it, but couldn’t remember the details now.  He remembered the truck and Newt walking away.  He remembered the way the sand shifted beneath his boots and he remembered the faint hints of dawn.  He remembered being told to breathe, but he couldn’t remember if it was from Newt or himself. He was already forgetting.

            Was it Newt? Was it Newt telling him to breathe and take a step back?  To reassess?  Was it Newt telling him he took so long?  So long for what?  Thomas had thought he meant so long to move, so long to run, so long to… no, it had to be.  Newt wouldn’t have kissed him if he didn’t want to, right? He wasn’t doing it out of pity, he wasn’t doing it to calm Thomas down, to shut him up, to keep him from rambling and panicking, right?

            “Thomas?”

            The name was a shattered question and something flinched inside of him.  His eyes shifted to the left, snagged on the edge of Newt’s boot.  There was a long scuff mark on the outer side of it, faded black against the dusty brown.  It might have been charcoal, though Thomas couldn’t figure out where that would have come from.  Ash, perhaps, smudged along it.  Something pressed and dragged, spread down to tiny specks.  Had it moved against Newt’s boot or had Newt’s boot moved against it.  Would it stay or could it be washed off with warm water and time?

            His name was barely a whisper this time.

 

            And then it was a proclamation.

            Thomas’ head snapped up to where Harriet and Manny exited the building. 

            “How’re you guys doing?” Harriet smiled, shifting the shotgun on her shoulder.

            “Good,” Thomas nodded.

            “I take it nothing exciting happened again?” Manny said through a stretch.

            Thomas’s heart sputtered.  Had they seen? Had they all seen? He didn’t even look to make sure they were alone.  He hadn’t taken in any part of his surroundings.  Did it matter? He shook his head.

            “Alright,” Manny continued, dropping his hands to his sides.  “We’re heading off for a run.  We’ll be back.”

            “Wish us supplies,” Harriet added, rolling her eyes.

            Thomas lifted a hand in farewell as they turned away to walk off.  When he looked back at the firewood, he saw Newt facing the center as well.  The space between them was suddenly its own entity.

            Newt stood and the movement turned Thomas’ heart over.  He angled his head to look up at him.

            “I’ll be back,” Newt’s eyes shifted.  “Gonna rinse off.”

            Thomas nodded.  He watched Newt take a step forward toward the building, a larger step over the abandoned kindling pile.  He kept watching him until he disappeared into the building.

            Warm water and time.

 

***  
  
            “It was only honey,” Jorge laughed.

            “That’s a lie,” Frypan insisted.  “Half of those dehydrated fruits are gone and they’re building a home in my head. With hammers. Loud ones.”

            “No one told you to have that much.”

            “No one told me it would hurt this much!”

            “Relax, breakfast will help,” Fran laughed, grabbing a sleeping Ian from Brenda.  “Thanks, Brenda.”

            Brenda waved a hand and slumped toward the canteens Bernard was slowly filling for everyone.

            Thomas felt the crate next to him shift as someone sat down and he turned to see a Crank.

            It grunted at him.

            “Nice to see you alive, Vince,” Thomas laughed.

            He received a shifted gaze in response.  “Is that what I am?”

            Thomas let another laugh out as the rest of the group slowly appeared from the building, taking places around the camp.  His eyes snagged on Newt running a hand through his wet hair and taking a seat next to Matt.  Newt reached over to help Matt tug a string of bandages tight around his arm. There was an exchange and a laugh, and Newt’s mouth tilted.  Thomas wanted to mirror it with his own, to taste that laugh.

            Newt’s eyes lifted and Thomas’ chest caught on them.  They held each other’s gaze for a tacit moment, Thomas’ breath rattling through his empty lungs. There wasn’t only sand, abandoned firewood.  There was space. There was something untethered between them in this distance, and Thomas was struck by an urge to move.

            “Eat up,” Jorge handed down a folded, crisp something or other.  “It’ll help the hangover.”

            Thomas didn’t care what it was.  It might not have been the same hangover, but he’d try anything to ease the pounding in his head and his veins, the empty breaths like something was physically lifted out of him. 

            Jorge stepped in front of him and moved on to Vince, and Thomas’ eyes found Newt again immediately, turned in conversation with Matt and Frypan.  Something hollowed inside of him again. 

            “Thomas, you okay?”

            He pulled his focus to the left where Vince squinted at him, speaking over a mouthful of food.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out any minute.”

            Thomas scratching the back of his neck.  “Not very hungry.”

            “Did you get any sleep last night?”

            Thomas’ hand paused.  “I was on Night Watch.”

            Vince swallowed before he spoke.  “Hell, I forgot you guys had to switch.  Go get some sleep, I’ll keep everyone out of the building for you.”

            Thomas blinked, resisted the urge to look across the circle.  Was Newt tired?  He’d only slept two or three hours in the truck. 

            “Go ahead,” Vince nudged Thomas before taking the breakfast from him.  “I’ll save you one.  Take Newt with you.  Boy looks like he’s gonna fall over.”

            Thomas nodded and pulled himself up.  He looked across the circle and caught Newt’s eye.  He moved.

            He stepped over part of the firewood and stopped in front of Newt.  He opened his mouth to speak, swallowed and started over.  “Vince said we should get sleep.”

            Newt’s eyes didn’t leave his.  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

            Thomas stepped back as Newt stood and finally broke their gaze to turn to Matt and clap him on the back before leading the way to the building.  Thomas distantly wondered if he had solidified something between them or completely shattered it.

 

 

            They stood there, on the edge, for longer than Thomas could keep track.

            His eyes were stuck on the small tear on the corner of the comforter.  He could feel Newt glancing at him but couldn’t bring himself to look.  Surely, they could grab another comforter if Newt wanted to. 

            But Newt was stepping forward.  “Might as well try to catch up on what we missed, then.”

            Newt stepped across the comforter and crouched down.  He untied the small knapsack he usually kept next to their comforter and pulled out his red jacket. 

            Thomas watched as Newt folded the jacket into a small square and propped it on the comforter before he leaned back on it.  His own pillow.

            Thomas swallowed.

            Maybe he could just sleep later.

            _No, Thomas._ He rolled his eyes at himself and stepped forward.  This was fine. Nothing changed.  They could move past this.

            He sat down next to Newt before he lied back down, eyes locked on the broken wooden ceiling above them.  The was a slat missing.  There was a lot missing suddenly. 

            The space between them was cosmic.

            Thomas kept his eyes on the ceiling, his hands folded across his stomach, his elbows tucked in so he didn’t accidentally bang them into Newt’s.  He was suddenly very aware of everything that had happened the night before.  He could still feel the way his teeth scraped against Newt’s in that first lunge.  He swallowed the memory.  Tried to think of another.

            What was the last thing they’d said?

            What was the last thing before coming into this building?  Had they spoken around the fire?  Hadn’t Thomas asked Newt about his boot? Or had he just thought it. 

            He kept his gaze on where the missing slat should be in the ceiling, but considered Newt’s hand where it rested on his own chest.   Why didn’t he have it at his side?  Was he trying to keep away from Thomas?  Did he think Thomas would take it?  Would he?

            Thomas was suddenly aware of his frozen chest and lack of breath.  He gave a small relief to his chest and inhaled again. 

            _This is stupid_.  Thomas took another breath, annoyed with himself.  Why was this so weird? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was never supposed to be like this.  It never _was_ like this.

            There was a tightness in the air, straining between them.  Wordless thoughts danced along it, torturously slow.  Being with Newt was never like this.  It was always second nature.  Hell, most days it was first nature.

            For the second time, Thomas considered that he might have broken something between them.

            He took a quick, decisive breath.  And then he was springing up, pushing himself up to stand.

            “Tommy?”

            The name reached up his body as he turned around to face the doorway.  He crouched down next to it and lied back down again in the other direction.  His heart pounded at the sudden movements, and the racing thoughts, at the flipped ceiling that Thomas stared at.  It pounded at the weight of Newt’s gaze as he looked at Thomas now.  He couldn’t bring himself to turn look back at him, no matter how much he wanted to.

            This was how it was supposed to be, right?  This is who they were.

            He tilted his head to the side to find Newt watching him. A smile curled up from Newt’s mouth as he spoke. “Hey.”

            Thomas smiled around the word.  “Hey.”

            The tension dissipated.

            Thomas didn’t keep track of how long they lied there, watching each other in this upside-down conundrum of themselves.  What he did keep track of was the comfort of it, the ease.

            How in the world had anything been so tense between them earlier?  How had anything been awkward and shifting when Thomas couldn’t feel anything but consolation now.  This was Newt, after all.  This was Newt.  Newt, who had been there every day that Thomas could remember, in every memory. 

            This was Newt.  This was an arm lazily thrown over his shoulder, laughter in his ear.  This was a tilted head and consideration, even when Thomas was wrong.  This was not only listening, but hearing also.  This was always hearing each other.  That’s who they were, and Thomas couldn’t fathom how he’d wasted so much time thinking that might have gone away.

            There was a small, quick tug on a few strands of his hair and Thomas blinked briefly and looked up to where Newt’s hand curled away from where it’d just been.  He dropped his gaze back down to Newt.  “You’re disappearing on me there, Tommy.  Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

            Thomas blinked himself back, gave a small shake of his head.  “No.”

            A small laugh escaped Newt. “No, of course not.  Lost in your own head, then?”

            Thomas couldn’t remove his eyes from Newt’s.  “Trying to get the wheels back on track.”

            Something flickered in Newt’s eyes as his smile tilted and slowly faded to a simple placated line.  Thomas’ eyes traced it, simple curves and – above everything – familiarity. His eyes dropped lower to Newt’s own, only to find them on Thomas’ mouth.  He was suddenly very aware of how dry his lips felt, the way his mouth seemed to unconsciously settle into a line.  He wondered if he should smile or if that would be weird.  If he should do something – anything.  He wondered if he should kiss Newt.

            There were footsteps and a scrape of furniture as someone walked into the building.  Thomas instinctively lifted his head and saw Fran rummaging around near the supplies.

            “Don’t mind me!” She whispered over.  “Just need a new shirt for Ian! Poor boy got sick over his current one.”

            Thomas nodded, even though she wasn’t facing them, and lied his head back down to stare at the missing slat in the ceiling.

            He felt a small puff of air against his cheek and he shifted his eyes to the side to look down toward Newt’s.  He was met with a wide smirk before Newt turned away to look at the ceiling as well.

            Thomas couldn’t help reciprocate the small laugh as he looked up as well. His hands rested on his chest and he could feel his heart settling down into a quiet rhythm as Fran continued her rummaging.  When she was finished, Thomas listened to her footsteps fade off of the floor of the building and out into the sanded Scorch.

            And then he laughed.

            He caught his breath and paused, tightening his chest around the rest of the laughter threatening to escape after the first. 

            He could feel Newt’s eyes on him as he spoke.  “Tommy?”  There was concern in his voice but Thomas couldn’t focus on it.

            Another laugh escaped. Another. And another.

            He shook his head through the laughter, brought a hand up to his eyes, to his mouth and then dropped it back to his chest, biting back on the rest of the laughter to cut it short.

            He could still feel Newt’s eyes on him and when he turned to face him, he saw the confused smile on Newt’s face as he looked at him.

            Thomas shook his head.  “It’s not important.”

            “But,” Newt said, pausing to let out a huff of breath.  “But you’re laughing.”  He said it like an explanation, like a reminder.  He said it like he thought Thomas had no clue.

            Thomas laughed again.  “It’s nothing, really.”

            “ _Nothing_ is making you laugh an awful lot.”

            “Just,” Thomas smiled, trying to put it into words.  “Just that still, even after…” his words trailed off through his smile.  He turned to look at Newt, suddenly wondering if this was okay – if bringing it up was okay, if talking about it was okay. 

            Newt broke their gaze and looked up to the ceiling.  Thomas’ chest tightened.  Maybe it wasn’t okay.  Maybe it was meant to be forgotten, chased down with the night sky and pushed beneath the world in the light of the day.

            “You said I could speak things into existence, right?”

            Thomas swallowed, nodded his answer. Newt’s eyes were still trained on the ceiling, but he would know.  Newt always knew.

            “Do you think, then,” Newt tilted his head, “that I could also speak things out of existence?”

            The words shot into Thomas’ chest and his heart was wrung. He tried to ignore the shame in the way his voice broke over the whispered “sure.”

            He watched Newt consider this, jaw working over something.  He opened his mouth to speak and Thomas froze.

            But the harsh and whispered _“Thomas!”_ wasn’t from Newt. 

            He lifted his head again to look toward the doorway to the building.  There was a small silhouette there, short hair framed about a face. 

            “Thomas!” she whispered again, louder.

            “Brenda?”

            “Oh good, you’re awake.”

            “What is it?” Thomas pulled himself up to sit straighter.  “Is everything alright?”

            “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Don’t panic.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow at her.

            “Where are your knives?”

            Thomas blinked. “What?”

            “Your knives?” She made a throwing motion with her hand.  “Where are they?”

            “You tell me not to panic and then you ask where my knives are?”

            She let out an exasperated sigh.  “I just want to practice.  Manny said he’d show much some things.”

            “Trying to best me?”

            “Thomas, I could best you in your sleep, everyone knows that.”

            He ignored the small snort of a laugh next to him.

            Brenda continued.  “Well? Where are they?”

            “They’re in my bag in the truck,” Thomas said with a vague hand gesture toward the doorway behind Brenda.

            “Okay, great. Do you mind if I use them?”

            “You know, you probably could have asked that first,” he laughed.

            “Yeah, but I’m gonna use them anyway. And if I’d asked first and you said no, you wouldn’t have told me where they were.”

            “Your logic is questionable.”

            “You’re one to talk,” Newt mumbled.

            Thomas looked down at him.  “Are you in this conversation?”

            Newt’s eyes were still on the ceiling above him, but his smile was somehow aimed directly at Thomas.

            “Is that a yes?”

            “Yes, Brenda, go,” Thomas laughed, his eyes still on Newt’s smile.

            “Thanks Thomas!”

            Thomas barely even had to look up to know she was gone.  The weighted silence of the building told him enough.  It was just him and Newt again.

            And Newt’s snicker.  “Apparently not.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow as Newt and kept his eyes on him as he slowly lowered himself backward to lie down again.  “Apparently not?” he repeated, his mind scrambling to their last conversation.

            Newt turned to face him now.  “Guess I’ll have to just stick to speaking things _into_ existence.”

            It was a single heartbeat before it hit Thomas directly.  He could feel his eyes dance between Newt’s, felt his heart spin inside of him. Newt wasn’t trying to speak it out of existence at all.  Thomas took a breath, shallow.  “Go ahead.”

            “Go ahead?”

            Thomas nodded slightly, his mouth curving.  “Speak something into existence.”  His eyes shifted to watch Newt’s mouth tilt upward in a faint smile.

            “Interrupt m-”

            Thomas moved.

            His lips found Newt’s in an upside-down collision. There was laughter and a mismatched confusion in all of this.  But then, Thomas figured everything about this world – about this life – was already so upside down, that it only made sense they would be too.

            Even so, Thomas couldn’t help but note the irony that despite all of this, it was the only time he’d felt like everything in the world was right.

            He pulled back and reveled in Newt’s smile.  “Did it work?”

            There was a small laugh at his response before Newt’s smile tapered off just slightly. 

            Thomas’ heart slowed, every fiber of himself zeroed in on the faded smile.  Newt was sitting up then and, without realizing it, Thomas was pulling himself up as well and turning to face him.

            He watched as Newt pulled at a thread in the maroon jacket, a crease between his brow.  Thomas considered a multitude of things to ask: what was wrong, did he do something, did Newt not want this, was everything in his own head? 

            He only watched Newt.

            Newt sat twisted on the comforter, his body facing Thomas.  His eyes were stuck on the blanket but he was distant, something running through his head that Thomas couldn’t follow no matter how hard he tried.   

            Thomas’ heart kept to its slow beat, waiting for an answer.  Waiting for something, anything.  His muscles strained to keep his leg still.

            “It always works, doesn’t it?” Newt’s eyes lifted to his now.

            Thomas swallowed. 

            “With us, I mean,” Newt continued.  His shoulders lifted in the hint of a shrug as his eyes dropped.  “I don’t know if what I’m trying to say makes sense outside of my shucked up head,” he said, gesturing to himself. “But I think it works.”

            Thomas watched Newt’s eyes slowly work their way up to his, something trapped behind them.  Thomas couldn’t place Newt’s thoughts, but he could place the feeling emanating from him.  And that’s how he understood that, yes, it worked.  It always worked.

            It always worked when they looked at each other across a circle of people, when they found their way to each other in a crowd.  It worked when they shared glances in firelight and comfortable silences.  It worked when they brushed knuckles and found each other’s hands.  It worked in upside down nights and backwards dances. It worked in all of those little unspoken moments, those arcane silences that were anything _but_ silent. 

            And it worked now, as they held each other’s gaze and let it speak for them.  It worked as Thomas pulled himself further up on the comforter, wrapped his hand around Newt’s side and turned him closer toward himself.  And as their foreheads met in the dark building, afternoon sunlight reaching in but not quite reaching their shared shadow they rested in, Thomas answered him the only way he knew: with a silent gesture and a pull that left gravity lacking.  He answered him with their own _yes_ and he let Newt’s mouth guide him to smile in new ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter is on the shorter side, but I only wanted to focus on the aftermath of the last chapter, so I'm sorry for that. It just didn't feel right blended with the next scene.
> 
> 2\. Thomas is having a mental breakdown. But then, don't we all after a first kiss?
> 
> 3\. Somebody get Vince a bacon sandwich, stat.
> 
>  
> 
> I just want to put yet another huge thank you here to everyone who's been following along and reading. The responses I've been getting (especially after it FINALLY happened..) have been wonderful. You are all so friggen amazing and deserve the world. Thank you so so much. You all keep me writing.
> 
>  
> 
> **Just want to put a small note here to say that this week's updates may be a little wonky. Got some stuff going on that might tilt my schedule a bit. I'll try to keep to it, but just in case - here's your heads up. lol <3 Thank you all.


	17. On Hiding and Heights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Frypan Definitely Forgot Something. Yes. Definitely.

 

            “Get in, get in!”

            “Hurry, leave the bags!”

            “Where the _hell_ is Josh?”

            “Putting out the fire, get in!”

            Thomas felt someone press into him, smelt the clover in the tangle of braids, before he sidestepped Harriet and stepped forward to look through the opening of the Underground.  He watched as Frypan’s legs swung over the edge before he dropped down and immediately turned to look up.  Thomas darted forward to help lower Newt.

            “Bloody hell, I can jump down a hole.”

            “Slim it,” Fry said, pushing him a bit further into Thomas and turning back to the opening. “Josh!”

            Thomas pulled Newt back into the darkness of the tunnel, one eye on the opening. In the darkness, the voices spoke over one another.

            “Where the hell is he?”

            “Stay back.”

            “He’s coming, Bern.”

            Thomas turned to face the direction of Newt.  There was a faint outline, the barest hint of light – just enough that Thomas could make out his eyes on the opening above.  “Newt, you good?”

            “Yeah, Tommy, I’m fine.”  The words came out breathless, distracted, mouth still agape as he watched the opening. 

            Thomas turned to look up and finally saw someone tumble down into the tunnel into Frypan.

            “Shit, man!”

            “Sorry!”

            “Get the door!”

            Thomas did one quick view of the Underground and counted all seven of them before he lunged forward and jumped, grabbing the edge of the opening to the surface.  He reached up, felt someone’s arms wrap around his legs to lift him up enough for him to grab the latch on the door.  He yanked it over, pulled his hand from the ledge and slammed the door shut as he fell back down, catching his balance as his boots slammed into the floor.

            “You good, Thomas?”

            “Yeah,” he said dusting his hands on his pants, looking up to make sure the door was completely closed.  “Thanks, Fry.”

            “No problem.”

            Thomas turned toward the others but couldn’t see much now.  Complete darkness was all that was around him.  There was a bit of shuffling about as people tried to situate themselves, to find each other.  Thomas felt his heart pick up. 

            “Tommy?” The voice was just a bit to his right and he turned, reaching out a hand and hitting something solid and hearing a grunt followed by a cough.

            “Shit, sorry!”

            He heard Newt’s laugh before he responded. “S’alright Tommy. Just my shoulder.”

            “Shut the fuck up.”

            Thomas turned to the direction of Harriet’s hushed whisper and melted into the quiet of the dark tunnel.

            The silence was broken by a low rumbling somewhere above them.  It steadily grew louder and, through the slivers of cracks in the trap door, they felt a swift burst of air. 

            Thomas felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He was grateful.  It was a reminder that Newt was there, that he was in the tunnel with him, that he was safe.

            The rumbling continued overhead, growing distant and then louder, softer and then closer.  The berg was circling.  Waiting.

            So they waited, too.

           

            Thomas didn’t know how long they waited, how long they stood in complete darkness – in complete silence. He went over the events in his head again.  Harriet, Bernard and Matt were the first ones down, he was sure of it.  When he slid down, Matt was the one who caught him, right? He was here, he had to be.  Frypan was definitely here, he knew that.  He physically watched Josh come down. And Newt was there next to him, hand a steady reminder at his wrist. The only thing keeping him grounded, keeping Thomas from pushing his way back to the surface for the others.

            They’d gone over this.  Half of this was his plan, after all.  Hide and stay underground until someone came for them. They’d gone over this.  If no one came for them, they take the tunnels – wherever they lead.  Thomas tried not to think of that, tried not to think of the possibility of no one coming.  The possibility of never again seeing Brenda, Jorge, Vince, Joe—

            “Tommy.”  It was a soft whisper.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

            Thomas felt a slight ease in his chest at the voice.  He wondered how Newt could tell he was panicking, even in the dark, and was yet again reminded of the _something_ between them.  Grateful for it, even. 

            He twisted his wrist in Newt’s grasp and lifted it only slightly, enough to link his fingers through Newt’s, to feel them lock in place like pieces of a puzzle.  He wondered if it was okay and was thankful for the darkness to conceal his face. 

            There was another small squeeze from Newt’s hand in his own, barely noticeable.  It was that and the way Newt kept his hand there that eased Thomas’ mind.

            It shouldn’t have mattered, Thomas knew that.  They’ve held hands before and it’d always been natural.  Hell, just a few weeks ago in the same situation they’d done it, and that was only one instance in a myriad of others since Thomas could remember. That day by the trucks didn’t change anything.  They had a moment.  Okay, they had two moments, technically.  But it still didn’t change anything.  At the end of it all, they were still Newt and Thomas.

            It was a spur of the moment incident and Thomas knew that.  Deep down he knew what adrenaline could do to a person, could do to feelings that reside inside of someone.  He knew what it was to seek comfort, to seek familiarity when so much going on around him was unfamiliar.  On the rare occasion that Thomas allowed himself to be honest, he was able to consider the unfamiliarity he felt _inside_ of him too. This was different.

            Thomas understood fear.  He understood anger, he understood sorrow, isolation.  He understood hatred.  Thomas also understood happiness, friendship.  He understood laughter and surprise.  Shock, horror, panic and worry.  He understood so many things, yet there was something small inside of him, growing, that was unfamiliar.  Something that was new.  He kept that at bay for the most part, would only poke at it in quiet moments around the campfire, allow himself to wonder at it, to try to mold it into something tangible – to give it a name.  But mostly, he kept it at bay.

            It was a difference to how he felt immediately after the Incident.  While that day was a rush of panic and fear, worry and concern – there was none of that now.  He was even able to laugh about how much he had panicked originally and, despite the hazy and spent Second Time, they were able to move past it and get back to who they were, to who they’ve always been: Newt and Thomas.

            He turned toward Newt now.  He couldn’t see him in the darkness – not in detail – but the vague shape was enough to calm him.  Once again, he was grateful for the darkness.  He didn’t need anyone seeing his smile.

            Thomas blinked suddenly, taken aback by the sudden soft glow that filled the space.  His eyes shifted briefly to catch the flashlight pressed into Harriet’s palm before they were back on Newt’s face.  He registered only after Newt looked away across the tunnel that while Thomas had been looking at Newt in the darkness, Newt had been looking back at him.

            “Where are they?” Harriet growled out.

            “I haven’t heard the berg in near ten minutes,” Newt said, looking up toward the door now.

            “Do you think they’re just waiting to make sure?” Fry asked.

            “No,” Thomas said, finally dragging his eyes from Newt and looking across the dimly lit circle.  “The plan was thirty minutes after the berg is out of range.”  Thomas clenched his jaw and then turned to Newt, speaking lower. “And it hasn’t been ten minutes, it’s been six.”

            Newt’s eyes narrowed only slightly, but Thomas didn’t miss the way his mouth tilted up in the hint of a smirk either.

            “So just under fourteen minutes,” Matt nodded in the dim light.  “Okay, okay,” he continued nodding, staring at the shut trapped door. “Okay.”

            His last _okay_ was drowned out by a loud humming, growing closer.  The flashlight was off in an instant, plunging them into darkness yet again.  The rumbling passed and silence took over again.  After a minute, it was broken by a dejected sigh somewhere to Thomas’ left.

            The soft glow of the covered flashlight took over the tunnel again.

            Thomas watched Fry step closer to Matt, but turned his head when he felt a small tug at his hand.  “Hm?”

            “Why don’t we sit?” Newt asked. 

            Thomas felt him tug his hand again as he backed up closer to the cave wall.

            “Come on,” Newt said a bit louder to the group.  “Might as well get comfortable. And turn the light out. Can’t waste the battery.”

            There was shuffling in the darkness as everyone retreated to either side of the tunnel to lean against the walls.  Thomas let go of Newt’s hand to feel his way along the wall as he lowered himself onto the damp floor next to him, but not a minute later Newt’s fingers found his again and their hands locked together in the sliver of space between them.  It was a reminder that they were both here, even if they couldn’t see each other. 

            They sat against the wall for a bit, the only sounds were breathing, a cough, and a bit of shifting.  Thomas focused on the sound of Newt’s boot scraping against the floor away from them and then closer again.  It repeated.

            “Fry,” Newt’s voice came barely above a whisper as he turned his head away from Thomas toward the other direction.  “Any way you could – ah. Thanks, mate.”

            “Good that.”

            Thomas swallowed, leaning his head back on the tunnel wall. Something pained inside of his chest and he was suddenly very annoyed that he was sitting on this side of Newt. He could have helped, would have without being asked to.  Not that it mattered, of course.  It was good that Frypan was there.  It was good that anyone was there if Newt needed the help.

            Still…

 

            Thomas was jolted awake by a sudden burst of light as the door above them opened.  He squinted at the silhouette as Jorge’s voice cut through.  “Everyone there? Everyone safe?”

            “We’re good!” Harriet called up, pushing herself up from the wall. 

            Thomas blinked back down and turned to Newt who was squinting up with one eye shut.  Thomas bit down on a smile.

            “Everyone okay up there?” Frypan asked, lifting himself.

            Thomas’ eyes shot to Newt’s knee, but it seemed stable as Newt began to move.  Their hands unlinked in favor of grabbing the wall for purchase, and Thomas was suddenly aware of the emptiness in his palm. 

            “Everyone’s okay up here.”

            The words were enough to pull Thomas standing fully now, immediately moving toward the exit.  He grabbed Jorge’s hand and let him pull him up from the tunnel and to the surface.  He’d never been so happy to see sand.

            “Thank God!”

            He felt himself half dragged across sand and half lifted as a pair of arms wrapped around him.

            “Hey, Brenda,” he sighed, enveloping her in his own.

            “You idiot,” she backed up and slammed an open palm into the center of his chest. “I can’t believe you made me stay up here.”

            “Brenda, we’ve been over this.”

            “I know, I know,” she sighed with her arms crossed. “That doesn’t mean I have to like being separated from all of you.”

            “All of us?” Thomas smiled.

            “Yes, all of you,” she insisted with another hit to his chest.

            He laughed as she stepped around him toward the opening where Frypan was being pulled out from below.  He turned to see the rest of the group crowding around the circle: Vince, Joe, Fran, Manny.  All of them.  Something loosened inside of him and he was suddenly able to breathe.  He didn’t even know he hadn’t been earlier.  But seeing all of them was a charge to his body, it was reassurance.  It was a reminder that losing them – any of them – wasn’t an option and he would do everything he could to avoid it.

 

***

            “Tommy,” Newt’s voice was low next to his ear. “Come on, Tommy.”

            Thomas swallowed at the sound.  He felt his breath hot on his ear and it woke something inside of him.

            “Come on.”

            His body moved under Newt’s pull, a hand grasping at Thomas’ shoulder.

            “Tommy!” The whisper was harsh this time and it tugged at Thomas.  “Let’s go!”

            Thomas’ eyes sprung open and he looked up to see Newt hovering over him, maroon collar of his coat flipped up around his neck.  Thomas’ brain worked overtime to bring him down, to pull him from sleep into consciousness.  Other parts of him didn’t switch over from the dream as easily.

            “You good?” Newt asked, still hovering over him.

            Thomas nodded. “Yeah, just… a minute,” he coughed out.  “Just gimme a minute.”

            “Come on, Tommy, we’re already behind.”  Newt’s eyes shifted toward the doorway somewhere behind Thomas.

            “I’ll meet you in a minute.”

            “You’re gonna fall back asleep,” Newt sat back on his knees next to Thomas and pulled at the white blanket.

            Thomas tightened his grip on it as he forced out the words. “A minute, Newt. I’ll meet you out there.”

            Newt’s brow furrowed before something else flickered in his eyes.  His gaze dropped from Thomas’ a second later. “Right,” he nodded to the floor.  He pointed to the doorway. “I’ll go… I’ll go make sure Frypan’s ready.” He was up and out of the building in the blink of an eye and Thomas swore under his breath, cursing himself.

 

            The three of them scarfed down breakfast under the haze of dawn.  Thomas’ heartrate seemed to settle at the ease in the tension.  Newt wordlessly offered him a canteen of water when he met them, but not in an unsettled way.  More of an understanding of… well… Thomas didn’t need to go over the moment anymore.  It was over and he was yet again reminded of the fact that there was an underlying connection between him and Newt. It was that connection that loosened the strain in Thomas’ chest and let him feel comfortable, let him fall right back into the routine. 

            “Alright, we about ready?” Frypan asked through a yawn.

            “Are you about ready?” Newt laughed, earning him a slight shove from Fry.

            “Come on,” Thomas nodded toward the trucks as he stood.  “If Vince found out we’re leaving this late he’ll give us supply duty for the next three days.”  He ran a hand down his face at the thought of having to wake up before sunrise again.

            “Good that,” Fry nodded.

            “I get shotgun,” Newt added.

            Thomas put a hand to Newt’s chest as he tried to walk past Thomas.  “Whoa, says who?”

            “Says me,” he laughed, swatting Thomas’ hand away.

            “Well, what if I want shotgun?”

            “Too bloody bad, I said it first.”

            Newt stepped around Thomas, but Thomas jogged around him and spun to face him.  Newt faltered in his step and Thomas didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped a bit lower toward Thomas’ mouth.

            It worked, then. 

            Thomas pulled his lips up in a smirk.  “Wanna race for it?”

            “That’s not fair,” Newt chided him, giving Thomas a slight push to make him start walking backward toward the truck.  “Why don’t we play a round of Shotgun for shotgun? I distinctly remember you losing twice.”

            Thomas rose his brows at Newt, but did nothing to hide his growing smile.  He swatted away Newt’s hand as he tried to give him another push.  “Wanna drink for it? See who can hold their liquor better?”

            “Why don’t we see who can dance better?” Newt raised an eyebrow at him, taunting.

            “Great, I already win since you don’t dance,” Thomas laughed, taking another step backward.

            “I do when I have a reason to,” Newt said, repeating the words from the other night.

            “Do you now?” Thomas laughed, swatting Newt’s hand away again.

            “If it’s proving I’m better at it than you, then yeah I’ve got a damn good reason.”

            Thomas feigned offense through his smile, catching Newt’s wrist and pushing it aside.  The small crack of a laugh from Newt shot through Thomas’ chest.   He continued walking backward, fighting off Newt’s half-earnest attempts to push him.  Thomas stopped a few feet from the truck suddenly. “Alright then,” he breathed.  In this closeness, he had to look up just slightly to meet Newt’s eyes. “Prove it.”

            Though his eyes stayed on Newt’s, he could see the curve of his mouth as it lifted on one side.  Newt’s eyes dropped to Thomas’ mouth and something pulled taut inside of Thomas.           “Maybe another time.”

            Thomas’ back hit the truck as Newt gave a final small push to the center of his chest.  He let out a small laugh and Thomas watched him walk around the front of the truck toward the passenger’s seat.  Thomas breathed out a laugh to himself before he pushed himself from the door and opened it.  He slid into the backseat, yanking the door shut behind him.  This was fine, he’d let Newt win this one. 

            “Are we finally ready?” Frypan asked wearily from the front.

            “Yeah, Fry, come on, step on it,” Thomas laughed, giving a small shove to the back of the driver’s seat.

            The car filled with small bouts of laughter as Fry turned the ignition and shifted the truck into gear. 

            Thomas’ eyes snagged on Newt’s as he looked over his shoulder back toward Thomas.  There was still that smirk on his face before he faced forward again and reached out to try to get the radio working.  Thomas sat back in the seat and bit back on another laugh threatening to escape.  His heart was pounding a battle song inside of him.

            The drive over for supplies usually took close to a half hour.  They found an area that had a section of buildings the size of warehouses.  Vince had been pretty certain they were warehouses at one point, given the supplies they often found inside.  Every morning a few of them would head over to gather as much as they could.  They were rarely the only people who came here, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement among everyone to leave other groups alone.  Typically, if there were people already in a certain building, the group would move past and onto another section or another building entirely.  They stuck to their own corners.

            Fry continued driving past the first few warehouses, slowing enough so they could peer into the openings to see which building had a vacancy.

            “There,” Newt pointed after a few minutes.  “The far right.”

            Fry nudged the wheel a bit and steered the truck off to the side in front of a large building with a metal grate down in front. 

            “How do you know no one’s in there?” Thomas asked, moving forward between the two front seats to look out of the windshield. 

            “I don’t,” Newt shrugged and turned to look at him.  “But that grate looks like it’ll keep damn near anyone out.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded. “Including us, genius.”

            Newt blinked at him.  “Including you, maybe.” He pushed the door open and slid out of the truck.  Thomas shared a quick look with Frypan before the two of them hopped out and walked to the back of the truck where Newt was lifting the hood of the trunk.

            “What’s this?” Thomas asked.

            Newt pulled out a metal canister with a thin nozzle on the end.  “Josh.”  He shut the hood of the trunk and reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of goggles.  Thomas briefly recalled him picking them up outside of WCKD, but brushed the sour memory out of his head.  He focused on the current moment.  “What’re you doing?”

            “Making an opening.”

            Thomas and Fry exchanged another brief look before they followed Newt to the grate.

            “Did you know this was here?” Frypan asked, eyeing the canister.

            “Guessing Josh told him,” Thomas answered as Newt placed the canister on the ground and pulled the goggles on.  Thomas couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face and was glad the others seemed focused on the grate.  He stayed focused on Newt as he inspected the canister, tongue in the corner of his mouth, brows furrowed over the massive goggles.

            “You look ridiculous,” Thomas laughed.

            “So do you.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at him. 

            “You’re both ridiculous,” Frypan sighed.  “Now that that’s noted, let’s get this going.  There are people eyeing us, probably curious what the hell is going on.”

            Thomas turned in the direction Frypan was squinting.  Sure enough there was a small group of three people who were watching them from a distance.  “They’re probably wondering where the alien came from.”

            “Keep it up, Tommy.”

            He turned back to Newt, laughing, glad he was able to push the memory of WCKD out of his head and replace it with this one instead. 

            “Alright, I think I’ve got it.  Back up.” Newt nodded to them before he turned toward the grate.

            Thomas and Fry took a large step back and waited for Newt. He lifted the canister and Thomas watched as a spark shot out quickly.

            “Shit…” Frypan said almost in awe.

            “Right?” Newt laughed. 

            “Shouldn’t you have something over your face?” Thomas asked, suddenly very aware of how close the sparks would be to him.

            “Mm.” He seemed to consider this before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin red scarf.

            Thomas swallowed.

            Newt tied it around his mouth and nodded once to them before turning back to the blowtorch.  The sparks ricocheted this way and that for close to ten minutes and finally the edge of the grate snapped free.  Newt lifted the goggles to eye it.

            “Nice,” Frypan said through a smile.

            “Now for the other side.” Newt cricked his neck and moved to the left edge and repeated the process. 

            Thomas allowed himself the brief pleasure of watching Newt work.  The way his back was just a bit hunched over, head lowered and angled close enough to watch his progress.  He paused a few times to shake out his hands before getting back to it. 

            Finally, the grate dropped and clanged to against the floor.  Thomas and Frypan lunged forward and grabbed it to keep it from toppling over completely.  They eased it down to the floor as Newt brought the blowtorch back to the truck. 

            “Alright, let’s check this place out,” Fry clapped his hands together as Newt joined back up with them goggles-free.

            Thomas eyed the scarf still tied around his neck before he turned and followed Frypan into the warehouse.

            “Jackpot,” Fry nodded. “And we got first dibs.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Thomas looked sideways at Newt’s smirk.

            “Alright, I’ve gotta find something for Jorge.  Meet back at the truck in twenty?” Fry looked over his shoulder as he walked further into the building.

            Thomas nodded at him before he turned to Newt.  “Where should we start?”

            Newt eyed the warehouse before he turned to Thomas.  “Split up?”

            Something sunk inside of Thomas.  “Oh, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah I gue-”

            “Or we could work together? Might go faster?” Newt offered quietly.

            Thomas answered just as quietly.  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

            He watched Newt in silence for another minute before he spoke. “Right-?”

            “-Left?”

            They both paused and Newt’s eyes brightened a bit.

            “Sorry,” he laughed.

            “No, no,” Thomas laughed. He cleared his throat and they both stood in silence before Thomas attempted to speak again. “Left-?”

            “-Right?”

            Thomas barked out a laugh and watched Newt’s eyes crinkle with his own.

            “Fuck, sorry.”

            “Oh my god,” Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Okay. You speak.”

            Newt laughed.  “I don’t know which way to go.”

            “Oh my god,” Thomas repeated.  He reached forward and lightly pushed Newt backward toward the aisles.  “Just start walking,” he laughed out, chasing Newt’s own.

 

            Thomas followed Newt up and down aisles, both of them idly touching some of the items on the shelves, figuring out if they were worth bringing back with them.  He picked up a small box and turned it over in his hands.  He shook it but didn’t hear much moving around.  He pulled the top of it off to reveal a watch wrapped around a small pillow.  Neither hand moved, the battery long dead.  Even so, he pulled it from the pillow and pocketed it.  Maybe they’d have a use for it.

            He looked up over the small counter and saw Newt holding up a pair of pants, eyeing them.  He smirked to himself before walking over.  “Whatcha got there?”

            Newt looked at Thomas.  “All these pants we have are big and loose on me.”

            Thomas snorted. “If it helps you decide, those probably won’t fit you either.  You finding any pair of pants that would fit you is probably not gonna happen.”

            Newt’s face fell into exasperation and Thomas couldn’t help the laugh.  “I’m just kidding around.  Get them.”

            “No,” Newt mocked as shook his head and tossed the pants onto the standing rack.  “Nope, I don’t want them now.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes as Newt walked away.  He grabbed the pants and slung them over his shoulder before following him. 

            “Should we grab a couple shirts too?” Thomas said, eyeing a dusted table with folded shirts piled.

            “Why? Not like any of them will fit,” Newt shrugged.

            Thomas threw one at him.

            “Oi!” Newt laughed tossing it back at him.  “Slinthead.”

            Thomas laughed softly and something warmed in his chest at the Glader slang.  Even though he was never around long enough for it to become part of his own speech patterns, there was still something comforting every time he heard Fry or Newt use them.

            He grabbed a few shirts and tucked them under his arm as they kept walking.

            “There’s a bucket up there,” Newt said, pointing to a top shelf.

            Thomas craned his neck back to look up and, sure enough, on the top shelf sat a plastic bin.

            “We could use it to carry everything so you don’t have to bury yourself.”

            “Or you could help carry some stuff.”

            Newt rolled his eyes at him.  “How do we get the bucket?”

            Thomas snickered and put the shirts down on one of the middle shelves and slung the pants on them too. He dragged a small side table over and set it below the bin.

            “That does not look stable,” Newt said, eyeing the table apprehensively.

            “It’s fine,” Thomas shrugged, bracing a leg on the surface of it. “Just hold it steady.”

            “Thomas, you’re not seri- bloody fuck!”

            Thomas felt the table wobble and tilt under his weight as he lifted himself up onto it flinging his arms out for balance.  He looked down to where Newt was suddenly at the table, steadying it with a white-knuckled grip.  There was a painful hiss from him, but Thomas could only laugh down at him. “What was that?”

            Newt looked up at him now, his expression painfully fearful.  “Thomas get down. This thing is going to topple over.”

            “It’s fine,” he laughed.  “Just let me get this.” He reached up toward the bin.

            “Thomas.”

            His fingers brushed the edge of the shelf but he couldn’t quite reach it.  “Shit.”

            “Thomas get down, there’s gotta be a better way to do this.”

            “Just,” Thomas stretched, reaching up again.  “I’m almost…”  He let his arm drop back down to his side, defeated.  He looked at the middle shelf by his knees. He lifted his leg and pressed down on it to test its durability.

            “Thomas, no.”

            He braced his leg on it and hauled himself up, grabbing the top shelf for purchase.  The shelf groaned beneath him.

            “Thomas!”

            “Newt, Jesus Christ, relax,” he laughed as he looked down over his shoulder at him.  His hands were still gripping the table. 

            “Thomas, I swear, if you fall and break something…”

            “I’m not gonna fall,” Thomas said, turning back to the shelf. 

            “You’re explaining it to Vince, not me.”

            “Would you relax?” He laughed. 

            “No.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh to himself as he got a better grip with one of his hands.  He used the other to reach up and grab the bin.  He pulled it down and tossed it to the floor next to Newt.

            “Great, you got it. You can come back down now.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes and lowered himself back down to the table.  He heard an audible sigh of relief from Newt. He smirked.

            He shifted his leg to one corner of the table and put his weight there before quickly switching it to the other leg.  The table wobbled uncontrollably beneath him.

            “Thomas!”

            He barked out a laugh at the crack in Newt’s voice.

            “If you don’t hurt yourself by falling, _I’m_ going to hurt you.”

            Thomas hopped down from the table and landed next to Newt, patting him on the back. “No offense, Newt, but your threats are empty. I’m more scared of Ian.”

            Newt swatted Thomas’ arm away.  “You’re carrying the bin.”

            Thomas snickered and moved the clothing into the bucket before lifting one end and dragging it behind him.

            “Seriously?” Newt deadpanned.  “You’re gonna break the plastic on the bottom.”

            “You carry it, then.”

            “Nope,” Newt tossed his hands in the air. “You decided to hike up there to get it.  Now you deal with it.”

            “You’re the one who pointed it out!”

            “That doesn’t mean I wanted to carry it.”

            “You’re useless,” Thomas chided, lifting the bin.

            “I’m resourceful.”

            “You’re lazy.”

            Newt crossed his arms and shrugged. “Do something about it.”

            Thomas’ stomach twitched at the daring expression on Newt’s face.  There was something dancing in his eyes.  Thomas’ mind replayed a voice in his head, _Tommy. Come on, Tommy,_ and he was especially grateful for the bin he held in front of him.  He swallowed, throat tight. 

            Newt snickered.  “Let’s go,” he nodded to the side. “Gotta find more flashlights.”  He turned off and continued into an aisle.

            Thomas exhaled through his mouth, feeling his cheeks puff out.  It was fine.  This was normal, and Thomas was glad Newt seemed to feel the same.  There was no awkward air between them, no lingering tension or wariness around each other.  A connection that developed into an understanding that never needed to be verbally acknowledged. Newt was clearly at ease, able to joke and feel comfortable around Thomas and it made Thomas happy.  It meant they were on common ground.  Nothing had changed.  This was just who they were: Newt and Thomas. 

           

            When they’d gathered all the supplies they deemed necessary – flashlights, canned food, spare clothing, a set of sheets, various tools and more – they walked back out to the truck, each carrying one end of the bin between them.  Thomas placed it into the trunk and shut the hood as Newt disappeared toward the front.  “Where’re you going?”

            “To wait for Fry in the car.”

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Thomas laughed jogging up to him and grabbing his arm. “Why do you get shotgun again?”

            Newt turned to him with his brow furrowed. “Because I won.”

            Thomas blinked. “Okay, first of all, you didn’t win. I let you take shotgun.”

            “That was your first mistake,” Newt smirked.

            Thomas tongued the inside of his cheek.

            “Fine,” Newt continued. “Why don’t we shoot for it?”

            It was Thomas’ turn to smirk now as he took a step closer, practically chest to chest with Newt.  “Why don’t we throw knives.  See who hits the mark first?”

            Newt’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and Thomas allowed the small tug in his stomach, the small satisfaction in making Newt falter.  He toyed with taking it further, played the options over in his head.  He reached his hand forward and reveled in the way Newt’s chest jumped at the sudden movement.

            He braced his hand on the door of the truck behind Newt. 

            Newt’s eyes flicked behind Thomas suddenly.  “Fry!” he choked out as a greeting.

            Thomas turned to look over his shoulder and saw Frypan in the doorway of the warehouse.

            “Uh, shit. I, uh, I forgot… something…” Fry pointed over his shoulder and spun on the spot, retreating back into the building.

            Thomas bit down, swallowed the defeated sigh that threatened to escape.  He turned back to Newt who still leaned against the truck, eyes nearly black and back on Thomas. It pulled at his insides.  Thomas nodded to the passenger seat behind Newt.  “Enjoy it for now,” he said, voice low, taunting.  “But you owe me.”

            He pushed off the door and stepped back, not taking his eyes off Newt’s as they followed him.  He reached out and pulled open the door to the backseat.

            “Owe you what?” Newt asked on a breath.

            Thomas feigned an innocent smile.  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”  He slid into the backseat and closed the door behind him.  He didn’t miss how Newt waited nearly a full minute, still leaning on the truck, before he finally pulled the door open and slid into the passenger’s seat.

            Thomas’ smirk was cemented on his face the entire ride back to camp.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First off, sorry for the late post!! Hopefully once this week calms down I'll be able to get back to the typical Sunday and Thursday updates. Second, I ended up cutting this chapter here in favor of getting it posted tonight before it didn't go up for ANOTHER day. That being said, the updated tags from Saturday don't fully make sense yet, as part of them applies to what will now be Chapter 18. THAT being said, there probably won't be a tag update this Wednesday (in case anyone was keeping an eye on those). 
> 
> Okay. Notes.
> 
> 1\. Hiding from the Berg - Just a friendly reminder that even though things have relaxed and calmed down for them, they're still being hunted. WCKD is still out there. The world is still dangerous. It's a part of their daily life, so much so that they've clearly had a sit down to go over a plan in the event there is a Berg. So there you have it.
> 
> 2\. Newt and Thomas - At the end of it all, that's who they are. Despite their kiss, despite their other kiss, they're still Newt and Thomas. Things won't change between them, can't change between them. Thomas knows that, and the comfort the settles between them now is a reminder of that. They don't deny it happened- there's no reason too. But they don't let it change them either. And also, maybe they're both still a bit nervous, a bit hesitant. Maybe they're both still unsure of what it is between them, what it means. They don't want to push it. They're relationship is a delicate and important thing, and they're not going to ruin it by rushing into a flurry of kisses and such (as much as we all want them to. Ffs.). But they do get to tease ;]
> 
> 3\. Blowtorch!Newt !!!! Something was missing here. We'll get to that.
> 
> 4\. Have domestic!Newtmas doing some "shopping." *checks off another box on my list of tropes*
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to follow this story! It means so much to me!! 
> 
> *Reminder that Thursday's update may be pushed forward as well. Hopefully not, but no promises. Thank you all for being patient with me! <3
> 
> ———————
> 
> **Update 5/2: Unfortunately I’m not going to be able to post on Thursday this week. Chapter 18 will be up Sunday, 5/7. I’d rather not rush it and post a half-assed chapter. Thank you all so much for the patience and understanding! Sorry for the delay!!!! <3


	18. On Intel and Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt and Thomas Can't Decide on a Word

 

            The sun was fully up by the time Frypan parked the truck behind Vince’s.  “Who’re they?”

            Thomas turned to look out of the window toward where the group was sitting around together.  There were two more people than there were this morning.  He pushed his way out of the truck and lead the way to the circle.

            “Ah!” Manny said gesturing up to him. “Here’s our fearless leader!”

            The two new people turned to look up at him.  They had young faces, might have been close to Thomas’ age, if not only a little older.

            “Him?” the girl asked.

            “He looks like he was just born last year,” the boy next to her said.

            “And who’re you?” Newt asked, stepping up next to him.

            “Micah.” The boy held out a hand.  “This is Rebecca.”

            “Pleasure.” Newt stiffly shook their hands.  “Newt. This is Thomas and Frypan.”

            “Frypan?” the boy asked, raising a brow.

            “Told you we weren’t kidding,” Brenda said.

            Thomas stepped around the outstretched hand Micah offered and took a seat next to Vince across from them.  “Got plenty of stuff.  Found a new warehouse.”

            “Nice,” Vince nodded.  “Any grates?”

            “Yeah, I got one,” Frypan answered, taking a seat as well.

            “Grates?” Rebecca asked.

            “My windows,” Jorge explained. “Don’t worry about that, though. Please, continue.” He gestured to them.

            “Yes, right,” Micah said clapping his hands together.  “So, after the crash, we had to walk the rest of the way.  It was horrible.  Rebecca almost passed out twice from the lack of food coupled with the heat.”

            “We were lucky there were no infected people around us,” Rebecca nodded.  “I wouldn’t have been able to get away.”

            “Where were you coming from?” Newt asked, sitting in the spot between Thomas and Harriet.

            “From the North.”

            “The mountains?” Thomas asked. “Why’d you come back down into the Scorch?”

            Rebecca shrugged. “To be around people? Supplies? Anything. Just couldn’t sit still.”

            “Literally,” Matt laughed out.  Thomas followed his eye line to where it fell on Micah’s shaking hand.

            “Oh, yeah,” Micah laughed. “Nervous habit.”

            “Why’re you nervous?” Thomas asked.

            Micah shrugged. “Always nervous meeting people.”

            “No need to be nervous around us,” Frypan laughed.

            “You’re a big group,” Micah shrugged. “It’s intimidating.”

            “You’ve been so nice to us though,” Rebecca added. “So, welcoming and generous.”

            “Yeah, thank you again for the food.”

            “Of course,” Fran nodded. “I can’t just stand by and watch kids go hungry. It pains me.”

            “I bet having one of your own had some pull on that.”

            There was a sudden shift on the other side of Newt and by the time Thomas turned his head to look, Harriet was already standing and pointing a small handgun at the boy.  Amidst the startled shouts, Harriet spoke.  “Tell your little friends to back away from the building right now or this bullet goes through your head.”

            Thomas turned to look back at the building and, sure enough, there were two people disappearing through the doorway.  He turned back to see Micah’s throat bob as he swallowed.

            Harriet slowly thumbed the hammer.

            There was a sudden scuffle and Joe and Fran were suddenly up and next to the new kids, holding their arms behind them. “Tell them to get over here,” Fran ordered.

            Thomas stood up and reached a hand out toward Harriet. “Gun down, now.”

            “Are you kidding me?”

            “Now, Harriet.”

            He was answered with a beat of silence before she lowered her arm back down to Newt.  Thomas shifted his gaze to Newt and gave him a small nod.  Newt took the gun from Harriet and holstered it back to his leg.

            Thomas allowed himself a breath before he turned to the other two.  “I still haven’t heard you call your friends back out.”

            Rebecca shook her head. “Please, don’t hurt us.”

            Thomas took a small step toward her. “Get them out here and I’ll make a decision.”

            “I’ll fucking get them out here,” Brenda said, standing up. “Come on,” she tapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

            “Brenda, wait,” Thomas held a hand up, keeping his eyes on Rebecca. He heard Brenda and Matt’s footsteps stop before he spoke to her.  “Get them. Out here.”

            “They won’t come. At the first sign of trouble we’re supposed to separate.”

            “That’s a healthy team you’ve got there,” Newt scoffed at Thomas’ shoulder.  “Abandoning each other.”

            “It’s not abandoning,” Micah said.  “It’s strategy. It’s protection.”

            “Get them. Out here.” Thomas repeated.

            Rebecca swallowed.  “Rupert! Isaac! It’s a Bluebird!”

            “Bluebird?” Brenda asked.

            “It’s a codeword to let each other know it’s safe.”

            “Just because the gun isn’t on you doesn’t mean you’re safe,” Harriet said.

            Thomas kept his eyes on Rebecca and Micah and waited.  After a minute, he heard footsteps.

            “You must be Rupert and Isaac,” Vince said.  “Come join the party.”

            Thomas waited until Vince dragged them both into view next to Micah.  “Start talking.”

            The four of them looked at each other.

            Fran jostled Micah.

            “Alright,” he coughed out.  “Alright. Listen.  We’ve seen your group and you’re one of the biggest here.  Your supply runs are big, we’ve seen the bonfires and food and weapons training and all of that.”

            “And you decided to steal from us?” Newt said.

            Thomas reached a hand back and gently nudged Newt.  He felt Newt’s hand lightly on his back.  Thomas nodded to Micah. “Continue.”

            “It’s tough scavenging out here. And since there are so many of you and so many things you always bring back we thought you wouldn’t even notice, to be honest.”

            “Why didn’t you just ask us?”

            “You don’t even know us,” Rebecca shrugged. “You wouldn’t have given us anything.”

            “You don’t know that.”

            “You’re an idiot if you immediately trust people,” Micah said.

            “Clearly,” Thomas nodded pointedly at him.

            “We’re not bad people,” Rebecca said.  “We just wanted a bit of supplies and maybe some food before we left again.  We weren’t gonna hurt anyone.”

            “Why didn’t you just scavenge the warehouses?”

            “Honestly?” Micah laughed. “You guys all come back with these crates and barrels of supplies. What would even be left for us?”  
  
            “There’s plenty of stuff out there." Thomas shook his head.  "Just because we gather enough for our group doesn’t mean it’s everything.”

            “Isn’t it, though? It’d be nice if you’d leave some stuff for the others to grab when they get out there.”

            “Don’t flip this like we’re the bad ones for going out and finding what we need. You could wake up just as early as everyone else in this town and go yourselves.”

            Rebecca scoffed.  “You think we’re the only group who’s been eyeing you all?”

            Thomas blinked, but stayed quiet.

            “You’re a big group.  And half of you’ve got trackers in you.  Now there’s bergs circling the town almost every day.”

            “I thought you said you just got here.”

            “We lied.”

            “Of course you did.”

            “Like I said," Micah shrugged. "Stupid of you to trust strangers so easily.”

            Fran jostled Micah again.  “Stupid of you not to be honest.  You’d have gotten your supplies if you’d just asked.  Thomas welcomed us into this group because we were honest with him. He’d have done the same for you.”

            “Let them go.”  Thomas saw everyone turn toward him, but his eyes stayed on the new kids. 

            “Thomas,” Vince started.

            “Let them go.” He repeated.  “I’m not holding them hostage.  They’re scared, we all are. Just let them go.”

            “Are you kidding me?” Harriet asked. “They were trying to steal from us and you wanna let them roam free?”

            “What do you suggest we do, Harriet?” Thomas turned to face her now.  “You wanna hold them captive? Hurt them? What is that gonna solve?”

            “A whole lot more than just letting them go will.”

            Thomas shook his head. “No. It solves nothing.” He turned back to them.  “We’re going to let you go, and you’re going to leave.  You’re not going to come back.  You’re not going to try to retaliate or whatever.  You’re going to leave. Understood?”

            “Please,” Rebecca shook her head. “We’re leaving tomorrow anyway.  Please just… some food. That’s all we ask. We’re leaving with a group tomorrow to The Safe Haven.”

            Something inside of Thomas jerked.  A silence settled among the group.

            “Wait, what?” Bernard asked.

            Rebecca nodded. “There’s another group here on this strip. They’re heading out tomorrow.”

            “They found it?”

            “Yeah. They’re heading West at dawn.”

            “West?” Newt asked from right behind Thomas.

            Thomas’ eyes found Vince.

            “How did they find it?” Bernard asked.

            Rebecca shrugged. “Didn’t ask questions.  They told us they were going and we decided to tag along.”

            Thomas turned on his heel.  Without even looking at him, he pressed a hand to Newt’s shoulder as he walked past him toward the building.  He heard the uneven steps behind him a minute later.

            “Thomas?”

            They stepped into the building and Thomas walked over to the food supply table.

            “Thomas, you’re not actually giving them food?”

            “One packet of soup each.  Only one.  In exchange.”

            Newt furrowed his brow, confused. “Exchange of what? Information? You just heard them, they don’t have any.  West.  That’s it, that’s all they have.”

            Thomas rummaged through the bin, pulling out the small packets of soup.  “Exchange of safety.”

            “Safety of who?”

            Thomas stood up, three packets in his hands, and looked at Newt.  “We’re not all moving forward together. Not anymore.”

            There was a pause between them as he watched Newt connect his meaning.

            “You don’t mean to take everyone along.”

            “We can’t.”

            Newt's eyes slid from Thomas', unfocused.  His mind was elsewhere.

            “Newt, you heard them.  They’re not the only group here who’s kept an eye on us.  The size of our group doesn’t make it easy for us to go under the radar.”

            “Who?”

            Thomas blinked. “Who what?”

            Newt looked at him now.  “Who are you sending to the Safe Haven?”

            Thomas swallowed. “As many as I can.”

            “And you think they’re just going to accept that?”

            Thomas shrugged. “I have to try.”

            Newt sighed, lifting his head a bit.  It tilted to the side as he considered something. 

            Thomas waited, letting Newt run whatever it was he needed to over in his head.

            “Let’s talk to Vince,” he finally said.

            “About going?”

            “About separating the group,” Newt corrected.  “About deciding who stays and who goes.”

            Thomas nodded. “We do it now.  Before it gets too late.”

            Newt nodded back to him.  “For the record, I’m not excited about the idea of splitting up.”

            “I know,” Thomas nodded again.

            “Good,” Newt said. “Then you also know that I’ll be going with you.”

            “I know.”

            “Good.”

            They stood watching each other in silence for another moment and Thomas felt something loosen inside of his chest.

            “Go give them the bloody soup,” Newt gestured.  “I’ll wait here for you and Vince.”

            Thomas couldn’t help the huff of laughter that followed.

            “What?”

            Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know.”

            Newt furrowed his brow and Thomas watched his mouth curl up on one side.  “You don’t know what you’re laughing at?”

            Thomas laughed again.  “You.”

            “You’re laughing at me?” Newt asked through a smile.

            “Yeah.”

            “What did I do?”

            “I don’t know!” Thomas laughed openly now.  “You’re just… I don’t know.”  Thomas felt his leg bouncing, unaware it had even started, and lowered his voice to a mumble. “Always so stupidly supportive of me sometimes.”

            It was Newt’s turn to let out a small huff of a laugh and Thomas watched him slowly step forward toward him.  Something danced in Newt’s eyes when Thomas looked in them.  He felt Newt’s hand slowly close around his wrist.

            “Tommy, there are far more stupid things I could do than supporting you, even if your ideas are questionable.”

            “Questionable?”

            “Worrisome.”

            “Worrisome?”

            “Do you want me to keep finding new words for them?”

            Thomas laughed. “No, I don’t think I need to hear them right now.”

            Newt smiled at him and Thomas forgot how to breathe for a minute.

            “What do you need to hear?”  Newt asked it so simply, but there was an entire world of questions in his tone.

            Thomas breathed the word, rather than said it. “You.”

            “I’m afraid I don’t have anything of importance to say.”  His smile curled around the words as he spoke.

            “That’s okay. I just like hearing you talk.”  Thomas immediately broke eye contact and internally beat himself up.  He could feel heat rising up his neck.

            “Not very good at talking.” Newt’s soft laugh brushed against Thomas’ jaw, coaxing his face back to Newt’s.

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Yeah, you are. Since the first day we met at the bonfire, you talking to me has kept me going.  You know that.”

            Newt’s smile faltered.

            Thomas swallowed.  He’d gone this far, he might as well tack it on.  “Never stop talking to me.”

            He felt the small squeeze around his wrist.  It was barely audible, but Thomas still heard the whisper. “I won’t.”

            Thomas’ heart hammered in his chest and he watched Newt’s gaze shift to where his hand was still wrapped around Thomas’ wrist.  “Tell you what,” he started. He looked back up to Thomas.  “Why don’t you bring these soup packets to those thieves - and make sure Frypan sees you doing it – and then grab Vince and we’ll discuss.  After this is all settled, you and I can go sit somewhere and talk.  I’ll work on coming up with something clever to say by then.”

            “Sounds like a plan,” Thomas laughed.

            “Good that.”

            They stood for another moment just looking at each other, until Thomas finally felt the smirk crawl on his face.  “I can’t bring them the soup if you’re holding me here.”

            Newt blinked and immediately his hand was retracted from Thomas’ wrist.  “Right.”

            Thomas felt the small hiccup from his heart at the image of Newt’s cheeks tinging pink.  He focused on holding the soup and not dropping it in favor of freeing his hands to hold Newt’s.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Thomas smiled at him.

            “I’ll be here.”

            “You always are,” Thomas tapped Newt’s chest with one of the soup packets in his hand as he sidestepped around him. 

            “Hey Tommy?”

            “Yeah?” He turned to look at Newt over his shoulder.

            “You either, okay?”  
  
            Thomas felt his brows twitch in question.

            “The talking, I mean.  Never stop.”

            Thomas shrugged. “Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

            Newt laughed, dropping his gaze to the floor.  “Never do know when to shut up, do you?”

            Thomas twitched his head to the side. “I should be offended, but I’m gonna let that slide in favor of this really nice moment we just had.”

            Newt looked up at him now, something playful on his face.  “How long is this gap of time that you’re allowing me to insult you?”

            Thomas raised his brows.  “How long a list of insults do you have for me?”

            Newt tilted his head and closed one eye in concentration.  Thomas knew he was pretending to think, but all he could focus on was how badly he wanted to close the distance between them at that exact moment. 

            “Don’t answer that,” Thomas pointed at him with the soup packets. “Just consider the gap closed.  Nice moment over.” He turned to leave, and as he walked he let Newt’s bark of laughter follow him and tucked it close to his chest.

           

            “What’s going on?” Vince asked as Thomas lead him back into the building. 

            “New plan,” was all Thomas responded with.  He found Newt sitting on top of one of the tables and something flipped over inside of him at the sight of his legs dangling.

            “New plan for those kids?” Vince asked.

            “No,” Thomas tore his eyes from Newt.  “For us.”

            Vince gestured at him to continue, leaning back on the table next to Newt.

            “We’ve stayed here too long.”  Thomas watched as Vince tilted his head a bit and crossed his arms. Thomas flicked his eyes up to Newt and back.  “I just,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, trying to think of more of an explanation.  “I just think we’ve gotten too comfortable.  And I know we don’t have much to go on, but it doesn’t mean that we should stay stagnant for too long either.”

            “I agree.”

            Thomas blinked, taken aback. “You do?”  
  
            “Are you surprised?”

            Thomas looked up to Newt again and back.  “A little, yeah.”

            “Thomas,” Vince pushed off the table.  “I told you since day one, I’m here with you. I’m in this for the long haul.  Whatever plans you’ve got, I’m listening.”

            Thomas felt something pang inside of him.  “Thanks, Vince.”

            “Hey, no need to thank me.”

            “No,” Thomas pushed.  “Seriously.  I mean, I’m… well, I don’t actually know how old I am but those guys out there are right. I’m still young.  It means a lot for you and Joe and everyone to put faith in me.”

            “Tommy,” Newt laughed softly.

            “What?”

            “Thomas,” Vince started.  “Age has nothing to do with intelligence or leadership.  I’ve seen you show much bravery and skill than half the people my own age did in the Right Arm.” He tilted his head. “Granted, you also made your mistakes and I won’t overlook that, but you’re a smart kid.  This is no easy task you’re taking on.  It’s not just blind faith we have in you.  It’s respect.”

            Thomas gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Vince, letting the words sink into him.  Something panged yet again in his chest.  A nostalgia for something he never remembered, maybe hadn’t even experienced.

            “Now,” Vince continued on.  “This plan of yours.  On the move. Do you have any ideas for direction? How you wanna go about it?”

            Thomas glanced up at Newt now.  He gave Thomas a small nod and Thomas was reminded yet again the importance of having Newt around for support.   “We’re not taking everyone with us.”

            This time Vince seemed to consider him, but no words followed.

            “I want to send the group with the others at dawn.”

            “To the Safe Haven?”

            “To the Safe Haven.”

            Vince nodded.  After another minute, he spoke.  “Well, Thomas.  I get it, I do.  But you have to remember two things here.  They’re two very important things, so I need you to listen.”

            Thomas nodded for him to continue.

            “First, you need to consider the safety in numbers.  I mean, we haven’t had much going on the past few weeks, but we have had each other.  We’ve been able to do supply runs, night shifts, and more and that’s allowed you and others to actually rest, to eat, to revive yourselves.  It’s no good running yourselves down because you don’t have enough people.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to speak but Vince held up a hand.  “Hang on, let me finish and then you can say your piece.  This second part is probably more important than the first, if I’m being honest with you.  It’s the people you’re going to be sending off.”

            Thomas glanced up at Newt again.  He already had the list in his head of people he’d be sending off tomorrow, but he let Vince continue.

            “You think anyone’s gonna _want_ to even go?  You think Harriet, Matt, Josh, any of them are gonna be okay with you turning them away from a mission they signed on for?”

            When Thomas was sure that Vince was waiting for his answer, he spoke.  “Vince, you said it yourself, I can’t let everyone else make decisions.  There has to be a clear leader.”

            “Yeah and if you turn them away you’re no longer their leader.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  It was bad enough that he hated the term _leader_ , but he knew the importance of it.  “So, what do you suggest?  You know I can’t bring everyone with me.”

            “Give them the choice like you did all those weeks ago.”

            “And if they all want to come?”

            “Then who are you to decide this mission isn’t their mission also?”

            The words hit Thomas deep in his chest.  He knew Vince made a good point.  Had roles been reversed, Thomas would have never sat back and let someone tell him he needed to leave.  Even if they did, it wouldn’t stop him from going off by himself, and the thought of any of them – Josh, Bernard, Harriet, Manny – heading off to WCKD on their own struck a nerve inside him.

            “Alright,” he nodded.  “I’ll give them the choice to make on their own.”

            “Thomas,” Newt interjected.  “Can I suggest something?”

            Thomas furrowed a brow at him, confused.  “Of course.”

            “We pick the route now that we’re taking.  The group that goes to WCKD.  That way they have the specifics, they have a solid option.  Not just Safe Haven or WCKD.  If you tell them the route we’re going, they might have a better understanding of what they’re signing up for.”

            Thomas agreed, but mostly he was fascinated yet again by Newt’s ability to go from best friend to Second-in-Command flawlessly.

            “What about the tunnels?” Vince asked.

            “We need the trucks,” Thomas shook his head.  “I thought about it, but it doesn’t make sense.  It’s the same reason we took the caves.”

            “Yeah, that’s fai-,”

            “Thomas!”

            He turned his head toward the doorway to see Brenda hovering there, waving them out.  He exchanged a look with the other two before they all made their way outside toward the group.

            Everyone seemed to hover around one of the radios Joe got working and though the static remained, it was still as clear as it had been the other night.  Thomas was suddenly very aware of Newt at his side.

            “What’s going on?” Vince asked.

            “Listen up,” Joe nodded toward the radio.  “I finally found that station from weeks ago.  The rebel camp?”

            Thomas stepped forward and kneeled down next to Joe.

            “-alliances forming!  This is the change we’ve been waiting for in this world.  They think we’ve gone silent from the raid on The Right Arm and now again on The North Force. They have another thing coming. Surprises in store.  Keep fighting back! They’ve taken our homes, our children, our families and friends, and they have abandoned us!  WCKD cannot take who we are, they cannot take our freedom and our choices! Keep fighting! Keep the alliances strong! They can double their forces, they can drop bombs but they cannot take this world from us! We are the backbone of this life and we will not be pushed aside!”

            The announcement started repeating itself and Thomas took the moment to look around at the circle.  Everyone hovered, staring at the radio – at each other.  Thomas’ eyes met Vince’s and they shared a quick nod before he stood and walked back toward the building. 

            “If that ain’t a sign to move,” Vince laughed, following Thomas into the building.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face before he turned.  Something loosened at the sight of Newt coming into the building as well.

            “What do you wanna do, Thomas?”

            Thomas took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “What is The North Force?”

            “It was another rebel base,” Vince answered.  “They had a camp out near the Arka Cliffs.”

            Thomas rose his brows and shook his head at Vince.

            “Hang on,” Vince groaned, reaching into his back pocket.  He pulled out the replacement map they’d retrieved for him on one of the latest supply runs.  Thomas tried not to think about the look on Vince’s face when he caught Thomas and Brenda trying to patch the old one back up after tearing it in half.  He spread the new one on the table.  “Right here.”  Vince jabbed his finger at a thin blue line on the map, a faded _Arka_ written below it.  “It’s about four hundred miles from here, give or take.”

            Thomas stared down at the map, running over the math in his head.  “That’s about a six-hour drive from here?”

            “Give or take,” he repeated.

            Thomas nodded down.  “If we leave at dawn, we can make it there by noon.”

            Vince turned to look at him, brows furrowed. “Thomas, did you hear that radio right?”

            “I did.”

            “Then you wanna explain to me why your plan is to drive six hours to a camp that’s just been raided by WCKD?”

            Thomas pushed himself up from the table. “Because they’re gone.  They already raided the camp.  They’re not going to be back.” He shrugged.  “Sounds to me like it might be the safest place.”

            “You want to look for a trail,” Newt said.

            Thomas flicked his eyes just past Vince to where Newt stood.  “That also.”

            “A trail,” Vince repeated.

            “If WCKD was there, they left a trace.  They had to have.”

            “Didn’t leave one at our base,” Vince countered.

            “No,” Thomas tilted his head. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t mess up.”

            Vince nodded and then turned to Newt. “What do you think?”

            “Me?”

            “Yeah, you.”

            Newt’s eyes flicked to Thomas, but Thomas only nodded. 

            Newt ran his tongue along his mouth as he looked back down at the map, concentration creasing his brow.  “It makes sense.  If they’re showing up to rebel bases and trying to kidnap immunes, they’re bound to leave something behind.  You said they didn’t leave a trace back at The Right Arm.”  Newt looked up and his eyes flicked between Vince and Thomas’ now.  “But didn’t they?”

            Thomas barely registered the confusion on Vince’s face.  He smiled back at Newt as he responded.  “They left us.”

            Vince looked back at Thomas, a grin spreading on his face.  “They left us.”

            “They left us,” Newt repeated through his own smile.

            There was a silence that settled here, but it was heavy and filled with hope, with planning.  Thomas felt a fire flickering inside of him that he hadn’t felt since the day he left The Right Arm’s camp. 

            “I’ll get the group ready. You wanna tell them now?”

            “I’ll be out in a minute,” Thomas nodded.

            Vince clasped a hand on his shoulder and left the building, leaving Thomas to turn to Newt. 

            “You think this is a good idea?”

            Newt tilted his head.  “I think it’s dangerous, but when has it not been with WCKD?” He smiled as he reached out, pressing a fist lightly to Thomas’ shoulder.  “When has it not been with you?”

            Thomas laughed.  “You think I’m dangerous?”

            Newt folded his arms across his chest, laughing.  “I think you’re something.”

            “Something,” Thomas repeated, brows raised. “Well, I’ll consider that a compliment for now, since your insult gap ended.”

            “Don’t worry,” Newt’s eyes crinkled.  “It is.”

            The fire in Thomas still burned with the anticipation of getting to the Arka Cliffs, but just past that fire was a small stretch, a pull.  He took a step toward Newt and let a small smile curl up from his mouth.  “In that case, I think you’re also something.”

            “Yeah?”  Newt’s eyes flickered when he looked at Thomas and the pull in his chest tightened.

            His arm strained as he held it back, but then loosened when Thomas realized he didn’t have to hold it back anymore. He reached forward just a bit and took Newt’s fingers in his hand.  He kept his eyes trained on Newt’s.  There were words buzzing around his head.  Not sentences, not coherent thoughts, just words that stuck out to him. 

            “You know,” Thomas started, dropping his gaze to their hands now.  “You were supposed to come up with a clever thing to say.  I don’t think _something_ really falls under that category.”  He looked up now, smirk growing.

            Newt let out a soft laugh that reached out and tugged on the band in Thomas’ chest.  “I guess I owe you one.”

            “Mmm,” Thomas threw his head back in mock exasperation.  “Your list is growing.”  He dropped Newt’s hand and reached out to spin his shoulders and walk him toward the exit.  “You better hope I don’t start tacking interest on.”

            Newt glanced over his shoulder and Thomas met his eyes.  “Define interest.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh out and gave a harder push toward the door.  “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I want to thank you all SO much for the patience and understanding this past week. Had a lot going on and unfortunately didn't have the time to post, but I'm happy to say I am back and the next few chapters should be on schedule!
> 
> 1\. Meet more Scorch dwellers! (Shoutout to Rachel, Kath, Dreams and Micky for the names!) A nice little reminder that you can't trust everyone in the Scorch. People have to fight for themselves sometimes, even it it's not the right way. 
> 
> 2\. Thomas' new plan. Ah! We've got movement finally! The group obviously couldn't stay here forever. Time to move out. I also wanted to touch on Thomas' leadership again a bit here and remind him that it's not just blind faith they're working on here. Separating the group is necessary and Vince agrees with Thomas, letting him lead. 
> 
> 3\. The North Force in the Arka Cliffs - Another rebel base that was raided by WCKD. The Arka Cliffs is a name I came up with as I hovered over my own maps. If anyone is actually curious about this, I have a fascination with dystopian cities and towns being named after faded signs. 
> 
> 4\. More Newt and Thomas banter! Have that as a thank you for being patient with my updates.
> 
>  
> 
> Apologies for the chapter being so short. It's technically the part 2 of last week's chapter. Next chapter should be back to normal. :]
> 
> Thank you all so so so much, as always, for the wonderful comments and support you've given this story. You talking to me keeps me going, just like Newt and Thomas. (AW!)


	19. On Confessions & Cliffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Time Heals All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: brief, subtle description of dislocation and general violence

 

            Thomas’ leg bounced as he waited outside of the building.  The rest of the group was still circled by the trucks, the strangers only returned once to talk to Thomas about information on the trek to the Safe Haven that would be happening at dawn.  When he got all that he could out of them, he sent them back off. Part of him worried about whether or not to trust their words, but he didn’t have much else to go on.  The worst that would happen is there wasn’t a group moving to the Safe Haven in the morning. 

            Well, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.

            He heard the footsteps and immediately looked to the doorway.  His eyes met Josh’s, snagged on the reddened rims, the feathered muscle in his jaw.  He paused next to Thomas, not quite looking at him. 

            “Thanks, Josh.”

            A beat later, Josh walked off and Thomas looked over his shoulder to watch him.  He shifted his gaze to the group and saw Newt stand.  Their eyes caught and Thomas gave him a small shake of his head.  Newt nodded and took his seat again in the circle before Thomas turned to back to the building and entered.

            Bernard sat on the far end with his back against the wall, arms resting on knees, eyes closed. 

            Thomas opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

            “Don’t.”

            Thomas closed his mouth and swallowed. 

            “I’ll be out in a minute.”

            Thomas nodded, even though Bernard couldn’t see him, and turned back to the outside.

 

 

            Thomas’ leg bounced as he waited in front of the circle.  He could see a million reactions on their faces.  Fury on Jorge’s, frustration on Vince’s, worry on Fran’s and shock on Manny’s.  Joe was the one who spoke, face blank.   “I don’t…” he swallowed and tried again.  “There was…” He looked around the circle for help.

            “The four of you knew there was a Crank down there and didn’t say anything?” Fran asked.

            “That’s the real reason you made us hide in the building when the berg came,” Manny said.  “It had nothing to do with the tracers.”

            “That’s not true,” Thomas shook his head.  “It had a lot to do with the tracers. The possibility of a Crank was just a small factor.”

            “We were pretty certain it was alone,” Harriet added.  “The only one.”

            “I don’t care if it was alone!” Jorge snapped back.  Thomas couldn’t stop the flinch through his body.  It wasn’t completely unlike Jorge to shout.  He’d seen him tie up and beat down a man for answers before.  Still, the shout unsettled something in Thomas.  Moreso when Jorge looked directly at him as he continued.  “You stand there and you sit with us and eat with us and you don’t think to mention it? Don’t think it was important? Don’t think some of us would like to know if there’s a chance we’d be infected or dead during the night?”

            “Jorge,” Brenda said next to him, arms held close to herself.  Her quietness was a contrast Thomas was only slightly thankful for, if not equally unsettled by.

            “No, Brenda,” Jorge shook his head.  “This is absurd.  We have every right to be upset about this. You have every right to be upset about this.”

            “It’s shocking not more of you are,” Vince folded his arms across his chest, eyes flicking between Brenda, Matt and Newt.

            “I already told Newt,” Thomas said to the ground.

            Brenda shifted. “I already knew, too.”

            Thomas looked up now.

            “I told them,” Fry admitted quietly.

            “Them?” Vince asked.

            “Me and Bren,” Matt answered for him.

            Vince blinked and looked around the circle.  “I’m gonna assume Josh and Bernard aren’t here because Josh told him?”  
  
            Thomas nodded.

            “So,” Fran began slowly.  “You all already knew?”

            Thomas nodded again.

            There was a small thud as the radio was carelessly tossed from Joe’s lap into the sand and he strode out of the circle.

            Newt shifted just as quickly.  His hand brushed across Thomas’ back and then trailed down his arm as he moved past him. 

            Thomas gave a small squeeze to his hand when it met his own and then let go to let him jog after Joe.

            “That’s great,” Manny said, pulling Thomas’ attention back to the circle.  “A bunch of teenagers knowing about a Crank but deciding it’s not important to tell the adults. Okay.”

            “Manny,” Fran pleaded.

            “He’s right,” Thomas shrugged. “We should have said something earlier.”

            “Yeah, you should’ve,” Vince agreed.

            “Do you know what could have happened if it wasn’t the only one? If more had come and found our camp? Just because you’re immune-”

            “I know!” Thomas snapped.  He took a breath in the silence and lowered his voice again.  “Don’t you think I know that? That you’re not all immune?  That every day we get travel the Scorch there’s a chance we can run into someone infected?”

            Brenda shifted where she stood.

            “I lost a friend to The Flare just three months ago,” he continued, not focusing on the way Fry stepped backward from the circle.  “It wasn’t my place to make that reveal.  Yes, I should have told you, but there were other factors I took into consideration.”

            “Was my son one of them?” Fran asked.

            Thomas’ stomach dropped at the sharp sting in her eyes.

            “Listen,” Brenda spoke up.  “What’s done is done.  At least he’s telling us now.”

            “Us?” Manny looked at her. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you’ve known for however long, too.  Forgive us for being a bit shell-shocked here.”

            “Watch your tone,” Jorge held up a finger to him.

            “My tone? You’re lucky this is the loudest I’m getting.”  
            “Lucky?” Jorge stepped forward and Thomas’ eyes dropped to the way he unbuttoned the wrist of his jacket to start rolling it up.

            “Jorge,” Brenda cautioned.

            “Is that a threat?”

            Manny stepped forward past Fran’s attempted grasp.

            “Back it up, both of you,” Vince said.

            “I’m not making any threats. All I’m saying is maybe she’s not so innocent in this either.”

            “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Brenda chimed in from behind Matt’s outstretched arm.  
            “She doesn’t owe you anything,” Jorge spat.

            “Maybe not me, but she didn’t tell you either, did she?”

            “Enough!” Thomas shouted. 

            Manny and Jorge stood nearly nose to nose for another moment until Manny finally backed up and left the circle, Fran following.

            Jorge tossed his hands in the air, mumbled something Thomas couldn’t understand and walked off in the other direction with Brenda jogging after him.

            “I’m gonna check on Fry,” Matt muttered, clapping a hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

            Thomas looked up at Vince, who had yet to look back at him.

            “Whatever,” Harriet said.  “I didn’t say shit to anyone.”

            Thomas closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.  “That’s sorta the point.”  He heard scuffing and when he opened his eyes Harriet had turned and was walking away, leaving him with Vince.

            “Vince,”

            “Thomas,” Vince held up a hand.  “Listen to me, I already said enough to you this morning about my trusting your leadership. But this? Keeping something like this from us? This goes against everything I respected about you.”

            Thomas felt the blow direct to his gut.

            “It’s shit like this that makes it feel like blind faith. Now I know you probably got enough of this from Newt when you told him, so I’m not gonna berate you for it.  I know whatever he said probably hit you enough.  But I’m telling you now, you pull this shit again and you’re not gonna have anyone at your back. They’ve got Minho, yeah.  But Gunn, Amanda, Sonya, Aris, Jerry, Eva and dozens of other kids are also trapped in the hands of WCKD. Their lives on the line.  I can name every single one of them and you can bet your ass I will get every one of them back. The last thing I need is this team falling apart internally because one person decides one Crank is not a big enough deal to share with the class.”

            Thomas could barely speak, could barely move.  He managed a single nod of understanding and received one in return. 

            “Alright good.  We’re good?”  Vince pushed off the truck and clapped a hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

            “I’m sorry, Vince.”

            “Don’t let it happen again and we’re good.  Give the others an hour or two to get through this and make a decision.  We’ll figure out our next move in a bit.  I’m gonna get some food.”

            “Alright.  Thanks, Vince.”  Thomas turned to watch Vince walk off, but his gaze slid to the side as Newt walked back to him.  There was a small exchange of words as Vince and Newt passed each other, but then the two continued on.

            “How’d that go?

            Thomas tilted his head to the side. “Could’ve gone a lot better.   But it’s done now, right?”

            “How’re you feeling?”

            Thomas sighed, leaning back against the truck.  “Better, I guess, despite that.”

            Newt smiled at him.  “They’ll be alright.  You just need to give them some time to deal with it in their own way.”

            “How’s Joe?”  
  
            Newt dropped his eye contact and Thomas watched his mouth form a line.  He should have told everyone sooner, should have told them right away.  “He’ll be okay.”

             Thomas felt something twist inside of him.  “Thanks, Newt.”

            “Hm?” He looked up at him now.

            “Thanks.”

            Newt tilted his head.

            “You don’t have to thank me, Tommy.”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Do you even know what I’m thanking you for?”  
  
            Newt smirked at him.  “Does it matter? You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

            “Really? Because I feel like I need to thank you for a million things.”

            “Don’t worry about it.  You’ve got enough to worry about, yeah?”

            “Priorities,” Thomas smirked.

            “Exactly,” Newt smiled, but Thomas was fairly certain Newt misunderstood him.   “Speaking of which, I’m gonna grab some food. What’re you feeling?”

            Thomas shook his head.

            “Right. Some of Frypan’s bread then.” Newt took a few steps backward before he turned and walked back toward the building.

            Thomas felt something pull in his chest and when Newt turned once to look back at him, he finally allowed a smile.  He was definitely feeling better.

 

***

  
            Thomas tossed another knapsack into the bed of one of Jorge’s truck, ignoring the ache in his muscles.  The group was still big, but he should have expected that after Vince’s words.  He was right: this wasn’t only his mission.  So when Manny and Fran agreed to take Ian to the Safe Haven and the others decided to continue on, Thomas couldn’t be surprised.  They’d started this mission together, all for their own reasons.  They’d continue on that way too.

            He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the crick from the awkward angle he’d slept the night before.  His eyes instinctively found Newt.  Thomas watched as he held Ian, watched his mouth move as he said something low to him.  Something ached inside of him at the goodbye.  He’d watched them all.  All except one.

            Newt looked up at the passing shadow and his eyes snagged on its owner before shifting to Thomas.  A moment later, Ian was passed to Fran and Newt ducked his head as he walked closer to Thomas.

            “Hey.”  It was a feeble greeting, but Thomas didn’t have much else to go on, didn’t know what to say. 

            “Hey,” Newt said up to him, a sad smile on his face. He turned to look over his shoulder.

            Thomas followed his gaze to where Joe and Fran stood, foreheads pressed together, murmured goodbyes.

            Thomas wanted nothing more than to put his arm around Newt, tuck him under his own little shelter.  He reached out softly and brushed his knuckles against Newt’s, bringing his attention back to him.  Newt let out a long exhale.  “Rough morning.”

            They were interrupted by the sound of another bag being tossed into the truck and Thomas turned to see Harriet, mouth set in a line.

            “If you need me, I’ll be in Vince’s truck waiting.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow, realizing only then that Harriet was the only other person he hadn’t seen say goodbye.  “You’re not gonna say anything?”

            She looked at Thomas, brows furrowed. “No.”

            Thomas blinked.

            Harriet shifted her weight as she sighed.  “Look, it’s not out of stubbornness or just me being rude. I just…”

            For the first time since he’d met her, Harriet seemed to be at a loss for words.  When she did speak, her voice was too casual.  “I just never got to say goodbye to her. To them. Any of them.”

            Thomas shifted his eyes to Newt.  It was a habit he’d gotten that he wasn’t very proud of, but now it was instinct to look to Newt when others were troubled. 

            Newt nodded at her, swallowed.  “I know,” he said, voice low.  “Neither did I.”

            Harriet looked up at him now before she flicked her eyes to Thomas and back.  Something twitched in her jaw as her mouth formed a thin line.  That was something Thomas knew how to react to.

            “Hey,” he took a small step forward, angling himself just a bit to move her focus to him instead of Newt.  “Look, despite the situation, I know none of us can truly relate to one another.  We’ve all had different experiences in this.  And I know that you didn’t get to say goodbye, and I’m sorry for that.  I wish I could change that for you, but I’m gonna do you one better.”

            He waited, let the words sink in to her.  She rose a brow.

            “I’m gonna make sure you get to say hello.”

            He watched Harriet’s mouth give way to a subtle flicker of a frown.  Another. And then she worked her jaw and nodded at him, hoisting her shotgun closer over her shoulder.  “I know you will.”

            Thomas attempted an encouraging smile.  He wasn’t quite sure if he hit the mark, but whatever it was, it seemed enough.  Harriet reached forward, clapping a hand on his arm. 

            “Thanks, Thomas.”  
            He gave a small nod as she turned to walk toward Vince’s truck.  When she was enough steps away, Thomas let loose a small breath as he felt a hand on his back.

            “You know, you still surprise me sometimes,” Newt laughed.

            Thomas turned to him, confused.

            Newt’s smile expanded slightly as he spoke.  “Sometimes you speak and I’m just reminded of how good you are.”

            Thomas snorted.  “Good? That’s what you go with?”

            “Don’t push it,” Newt said, a false warning in his eyes.

            Thomas let out a small laugh before looking over Newt’s shoulder toward Joe and Fran.  “We should get going soon.”

            Newt turned to look at them and then turned back, folding his arms across his chest. “When is that group heading out?”

            Thomas looked up at the fading night sky, pinks and yellows rushing across.  “Soon.”

            Newt nodded. “Hey.”

            Thomas looked back down at him and saw something troubled on his face.  “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” he shook his head and then reached out to grab Thomas’ arm, slid his hand down to his wrist and held it there.  The light touch sent a shiver through Thomas.  “I’m gonna ride with Joe.”

            Thomas nodded immediately.  “Of course.”

            “That’s okay?”

            Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Of course it is.”

            He watched something brighten on Newt’s face, a relieved smile curl up.  “Oh,” he laughed. “Sorry, I just… okay.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow, laughing.  “Did you think I’d say no?”

            Newt shrugged, looking down at where his hand still held Thomas’ wrist.  “No, I guess not. I don’t know what I thought.” He laughed again, dropping Thomas’ arm. 

            Thomas lightly kicked out his leg, tapping Newt’s.  “Stop being so weird.”

            Newt laughed again, a bit louder this time, almost back to normal.  “You’re riding with Vince, yeah?”

            Thomas squinted past Newt to where Vince finished wrapping up the last of the sheets.  “Yeah, I can’t help but feel like something’s still off with him since we told them. I just think that some time in the truck with him might give us a chance to meld that over.”

            “That makes sense,” Newt looked over his shoulder to watch as Vince loaded the sheets into the back of the truck.  The last of the supplies.  He turned back.  “Alright, then.”

            “Alright then,” Thomas nodded.  They stood there awkwardly for a minute and Thomas wasn’t sure how to proceed.  Did they hug? Did they say bye? Did they just walk away?

            “Now who’s being weird?” Newt laughed, a small shove to his shoulder.  “I’ll see ya in a bit.”

            _Right, that works_.  Thomas let out a small laugh and nodded.  “See ya, Newt.”  He watched Newt walk off toward Joe before he turned and made his way toward Vince’s truck.  He had a sudden sinking feeling that told him it would be a long drive.

 

***  
  
            Thomas realized almost straight away that he didn’t miss this.  He didn’t miss the constant moving, the rolling view of sand and dust and just absolutely nothing.  He didn’t miss the rising anxieties in him that put questions in his head like _how much longer?_ and _what if we’re going the wrong way?_ That uneasiness pulled at him.  It bounced his leg.  It made him switch from the left side of the backseat to the right side.  It made him fold an ankle over his knee and tap a rhythm on the bench next to him.

            It made him think of Newt.  He knew what that feeling was that plummeted inside of him when Newt told him he was riding with Joe.  Thomas understood why he was in the other truck, he did.  Joe was going through something far worse than most of them could understand. He just hated that part of him was upset by it.  He hated that any part of him wished Newt just didn’t need to be there for him.  But then, that was exactly what made Newt _Newt_. Regardless of Thomas wishing Newt could have been in the seat next to him, he understood.  He knew Newt wanted to be there for Joe, and at the end of everything, that was what Thomas admired about him.  His ability to push everything to the side to make sure someone else had what they needed, to do anything he could to help, even if it was just being present for someone.

            Thomas hated that he wished Newt was a little more selfish sometimes.

 

***  
  
            The first pit stop was as most of the Scorch had been: sand. Though, when Thomas stepped out of the truck he could feel solid ground below him, almost like the road they had been staying on in town.  It was comforting to remember that there was still something concrete in the unknown.  Something he could feel.

            The wind was cooler here and he pulled his jacket out from the backseat.  He zipped it up and breathed in the faded mint that was still just left over from before the jacket became his.

            The group was spread out as Joe made himself busy refueling the trucks. Thomas considered checking on him, but what would he even say?  What could he say that Newt already hadn’t? And that was the point, wasn’t it?  That was why Newt was riding shotgun in Joe’s truck.  That was why Newt smiled so easily now as he talked to Frypan.  Always ease, always comfort.

            Thomas already missed it.

            “Hey Thomas,” Frypan smiled at him.

            “Hey, Fry,” he said.  “Matt.”

            Matt lifted a hand in hello.

            Thomas decided the greetings were good enough.  He turned to Newt. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

            The only sign of confusion Newt offered was the smallest twitch of his eyebrows.  “Sure.”  He turned immediately.

            Thomas nodded at Frypan and Matt and then turned to walk side by side with Newt.  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

            There wasn’t anywhere that far for them to go, anywhere at all really.  The area they were stopped in had a few scarce empty trees and a few withered brown plant stems. Other than that, it was just sand.  Thomas resolved to standing on the other side of the furthest truck to grant them at least some privacy.  Not that they needed privacy, per se.  But Thomas just wanted Newt to himself for a minute.  He was allowed that. 

            He leaned back against the broken headlight of Joe’s truck. He could feel Newt’s eyes on him and when he looked up, he saw Newt watching him with a lowered brow.

            “Everything alright?” he asked.

            Thomas blinked his focus to the moment.  “Uh, yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” He readjusted his stance against the headlight. “Yeah, I just, needed a minute away I think.”  He looked down at the sand covering the road beneath them.  If he scraped his boot enough in one spot like he was now, he thought he could see asphalt.

            “You,” Newt started, voice unsure.  “You wanted to talk?”

            Thomas looked up at him, his brain scrambling for an excuse.  He took a deep breath and exhaled on the words.  “Uh, yeah.  Yeah, how was the drive?” He took his hands out of his pocket and gestured to Newt.

            “The drive?” Newt repeated. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement of clarification. 

            Thomas nodded. “Mhm.”

            Newt eyed him for another moment and then his posture changed. He was all relaxation and and comfort.  “It was good,” he shrugged and turned to lean on the truck next to Thomas. “We actually found the same radio station Joe found the other night.  The one with the bonfire.”  He punctuated this with a glance at Thomas and it sent something shivering through Thomas.  Or maybe that was just the wind.

            “How’s he doing?” Thomas asked, checking to see if he could see the asphalt under the other boot as well.

            “He’s managing,” Newt answered.

            Thomas looked up to see Newt watching his boot against the asphalt as well.

            “He’s been preparing for this for a while.”

            This stopped Thomas’ leg.  “He has?”

            Newt looked up at him as he spoke.  “He knew he’d have to separate from them at some point or another.  That’s not to say it made it any easier, I’m sure.  But he knew it was coming.  There was no way he’d go storming WCKD with Ian in his arms,” he smiled.

            “Why didn’t he go with them?”

            “Same reason as the rest of us,” Newt shrugged. “WCKD took people he loved.  Having Fran and Ian back, it changes things, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to fight to get everyone back. All it means is that he has something to fight harder for, to come home to.”

            Newt’s eyes flickered as he held Thomas’ gaze and it struck Thomas how close they stood.  It was enough for their shoulders to brush against each other with every small shift and when Newt put his hands in his pockets, his shoulder pressed into Thomas’ a bit more significantly. Something about it comforted Thomas.

            “Did you know there was a kid in Group D’s Maze named Johnny who once got into a fight with an owl?”

            Thomas blinked.  “What?”

            “That’s what I said,” he laughed and Thomas watched his eyes crinkle in the corners.  “I forgot how it started, but the bullet points are, Johnny as trying to climb a tree for something, hit a nest which I guess was the owl’s house, and it came flying down at him and knocked him out of the tree.”

            Thomas felt a laugh break loose in him.  “An owl?”

            “An owl,” Newt nodded. “He had to get bandaged up.  He had little peck marks all over his neck and arms.  They called him Johnny-Hoots for a month.”

            Thomas laughed along with him, let the combined sounds sink into him.  As if the Scorch was trying to fight the moment away from them, a breeze whipped against them.  He hunched his shoulders up and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.  He squinted against the wind over to Newt, who was squinting back at him.  His mouth broke into a smile that Thomas mirrored.

            When the wind died down again, Newt pushed himself off from the truck and came around to face Thomas.  His eyes shifted to the other side of the truck then and Thomas watched him nod.  Thomas turned to look through the windshield to see Frypan walking back toward the others.  He turned back to Newt.

            “Time to get moving,” Newt sighed.

            Something twisted in Thomas’ chest.  He knew it was selfish, knew it was so selfish, but he wanted to ask Newt to ride in Vince’s truck.  He wanted to ask him to sit next to him, tell him more about the owl story, or whatever other story he could think of.  But Thomas didn’t ask.  He couldn’t.  Not when he knew it would hurt Newt to leave Joe, would hurt Joe to be left.  Thomas pushed his wants aside.

            He almost flinched when Newt’s hands slid out of his pockets and reached up to Thomas’ jacket. He watched Newt’s eyes as they focused on adjusting Thomas’ hood closer around his neck, blocking the breeze from brushing against the skin there.  There was a sudden overwhelming scent of mint, replacing the faded scent of the jacket, and Thomas wished he could keep it. 

            Newt dropped his hands and lifted his gaze to meet Thomas’ directly.  “Warmer?”

            Thomas nodded.  “Yeah, I’m good.”

            Newt responded with a lopsided smile and put his arm around Thomas’ shoulder, spinning him toward the group.

 

***  
  
            The second stretch was just as long as the first, if not longer.  The air was cooler the further they drove and Thomas could only burrow deeper into the jacket.  He didn’t mind it.  Somehow the jacket’s scent had come back.  Thomas was too tired to figure out why, how.  He pressed himself back into the seat and folded his legs close to him to keep warm.  He pulled his hood forward but his eyes caught on something that landed on his thigh.  He tilted his head and picked it up to examine it.

            Between his fingers, he held a small, brownish green leaf, withered and torn. Something ached in his chest and he looked at the empty seat next to him.  He should have asked. He should have asked him to come into the truck with him.  He should have asked to just go in the truck with him.  He cursed at himself for not even thinking of the option. He tucked the leaf into the pocket of the hoodie and sunk back into the seat, pressing his knees to the back of Vince’s chair.  He should have done so many things.

 

***

            They stopped again an hour later for lunch. Thomas pushed himself out of the truck and pushed the door closed behind him.  There was more of a defined road here.  The asphalt was visible without having to scuff your boot around the ground.  It was still mostly flatland, though some of it seemed to incline.  When Thomas looked up, what caught his gaze were the mountains. 

            They weren’t the same mountains they had been in near The Right Arm’s camp.  These were covered in naked trees, crooked limbs reaching up and up.  There were small tufts of plants that seemed to try to be growing.  They worked their way down the mountain and lined the road all the way to the group and past them.  It stirred something in Thomas, reminded him that there was life out here, despite it all.  There were still people - things - surviving.

            He found Newt handing out a pack of dehydrated carrots to Harriet.  Thomas waited on the side for the conversation to finish.  He watched Newt’s eyes crinkle with laughter, watched his brows tilt upward and mouth hang open as he listened, the curve of his mouth as he worked it around certain words as he spoke.

            He was right there and Thomas never missed him more.  He breathed in the minted scent of the jacket again before he saw Harriet walk off to the side.  He moved.

            “Hey,” he said, lightly tugging his arm.  “Have a minute?”

            Newt gave him a small smile.  “’Course, Tommy.”

            Thomas lead them over to some of the trees on the opposite side of the road a bit further down.  He stopped in front of a small cluster of plants and pointed to them.  “What are these?”

            Newt looked at Thomas first, brows furrowed, then crouched down to get a closer look.  He tilted his head, brow creased.  “I don’t know, I think they might just be some type of weed.”

            “Oh, gotcha,” Thomas nodded.

            Newt squinted up at him from where he stayed crouched on the ground.  “Interested in botany, Tommy?”

            “What?” Thomas laughed. “No, no. I was just curious.”

            Newt blinked at him.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face before extending it down to Newt. 

            Newt looked at his hand, glanced once more back at him, and then took it and Thomas pulled him up to stand in front of him.

            “Tommy, what’s going on with you?”

            “Nothing,” Thomas lied.  He focused himself on his leg, on keeping it still. His eyes dropped to Newt’s mouth.  “I found the mint leaf,” he laughed out suddenly, looking back up to his eyes.

            Newt’s eyes flickered between Thomas’, something nervous in them.  If Thomas didn’t know better, he’d have said it was embarrassment.

            Thomas could feel his heart racing, his brain sprinting to keep up with it.  His eyes dropped to Newt’s mouth again for a quick second.  He took a shallow breath and let the words come.  “Newt, I think…”  He tried again. “I want…” he closed his mouth, swallowed.

            Newt’s eyes flickered again, his hand tightened its grip on Thomas’ somewhere between them.

            Thomas took it as encouragement, gave into his stupid thoughts.  “Can I…”

            Newt’s eyes bore into Thomas’.  He nodded.

            Something broke loose in Thomas’ chest.  He felt his heart pick up even more, didn’t know it was possible.  “Yeah?”

            Newt nodded again and this time a small smile curled up on one side.  “Yeah.”

            The tension in Thomas’ muscles eased just slightly, he felt his mouth twitch into a smile.  He stepped a bit closer, dropped his eyes to Newt’s mouth again.  He let single laugh out on a breath.  He tilted his head, paused, put a hand on Newt’s arm.  He met Newt’s eyes and the laughter in them and it pulled another laugh out from his own mouth.  He shook his head and looked down to the asphalt below them.  He heard a small breath from Newt as he let out another laugh too.

            “Tommy, come here.”

            Thomas pulled his gaze back up and his breath caught in his chest at the focus in Newt’s eyes.  He felt one of Newt’s hands at his waist and the other snaked around to Thomas’ back and pulled him closer.

            Thomas’ gaze flicked down once more to Newt’s slight smile and back to his eyes before he closed his own and reached up just the slightest bit to press his mouth to Newt’s.  It was a flood inside of him as his shoulders dropped and his body eased, and when Newt moved his mouth a bit firmer against Thomas’, he opened up for him and let himself be pulled closer. 

            His hand tightened its grip on Newt’s arm, his other reaching up to the back of Newt’s neck, pulling him closer, giving him an anchor to keep him here.

            Thomas’ chest continued its flood, let so much that had been built up inside of him melt down into the waters, let it flow through him.  It was soothing, softening.  It was _finally_.

            He had no idea how long they stood there, breathing into each other’s smiles.  How long they stayed melting into each other.  When they closed off the kiss, Thomas’ face was still pressed against Newt’s cheek, not wanting to be any further than that. 

            He angled his head so that his eyes stayed on Newt’s mouth, watched it curve up into a smile.  “Alright, Tommy?”

            Thomas closed his eyes and nodded.  He squeezed Newt’s arm in answer and got a small laugh in response.

            “Hey, come here.”  Newt pulled his head back and Thomas had to lift his own and look back at him. 

            His cheeks were tinged pink, mouth bright red, eyes a deeper brown than Thomas had seen.  Newt pressed his mouth to Thomas’ again just briefly before pulling back again. 

            It was then that Thomas shuddered a breath out, dropped his head to look down at the asphalt again. 

            “Tommy, talk to me,” Newt laughed out, crouching just a bit to catch Thomas’ eyes with his own.

            Thomas looked up as Newt straightened. He nodded.  “I’m good.”

            Concern was written on Newt’s face, and Thomas chased it away with his mouth.  Pushed more and pressed his tongue into Newt’s mouth just once before pulling away again.

            When he opened his eyes this time, Newt was smiling, and so Thomas smiled too.

            “Thanks,” he breathed out.

            Newt raised a brow and Thomas broke out a laugh. 

            “I just mean,” he tried again, shaking his head.  “I don’t know what I mean.”

            Newt’s smile grew in front of him. “It’s okay.  _I_ know what you mean.”

            Thomas flicked his eyes up to Newt’s.  “Of course you do,” he laughed.

            Newt’s eyes shot back and forth between Thomas’ and Thomas could feel Newt start to pull him closer again.  “I’m gonna kiss you again, now.”

            Thomas shook with a laugh.  “Thanks for the warning.”  
            Newt’s smile widened in the last second before they were kissing again and Thomas finally let himself breathe, let himself think it, let himself accept it.  He let himself kiss Newt back.

           

***  
  
            It was a brief conversation between Newt and Joe that Thomas tried to inconspicuously watch from the side.  He caught a bark of laughter, a small shove, a clap on the shoulder and then Newt was turning from him, grinning to himself as he walked toward Vince’s truck. 

            Thomas pulled his gaze away to look at the asphalt beneath his boots while he waited, leaning against the truck.

            “Hey,” Newt said as he approached.

            Thomas looked up at him now.

            “All set.”

            Thomas looked from Newt to Joe behind him getting into the truck, and then back to Newt.  “You’re sure?”

            “Trust me,” Newt laughed.  “He’s good.”

            Thomas lowered a brow, but decided against asking.  He pushed himself off the truck and pulled the door open.

            Newt eyed the door and then Thomas.  “Yeah, you’re not opening doors for me,” he laughed, shaking his head. 

            “What?” Thomas asked as Newt walked around the back of the truck to the other side.  Thomas rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile off his face.  He pulled the door shut next to him as Newt did the same behind Harriet’s seat.

            “Ready to go?” Vince asked.

            “Yep,” Thomas answered, settling back into the seat, propping one leg up on the center console.

           

            The last stretch of the drive somehow seemed the longest of all.  Thomas swallowed down the irony of how on this drive, when Newt was finally right next to him, he seemed the farthest away.  Thomas pulled his leg from the center console and crossed his ankle over his knee. 

            All he wanted to do was reach across the bench and grab Newt and pull him closer to him.  He didn’t have to kiss him, not even that.  He just wanted him close.  Closer. 

            He unfolded his leg and shifted his body, angled it diagonally so he could nestle in the corner of the door and the seatback.  He pulled his hood up and then bent his leg to balance his knee on the bench, the other leg planted on the floor.  He let his eyes close, determined to get some type of rest before their destination.

            Thomas had no way of finding out what they’d find at the camp.  He wondered how many people survived, if they were still there or had already left.  He wondered what kind of evidence WCKD might have left behind that could lead him to them.  He thought about the possibility of WCKD’s bergs, that they might have taken any immunes from this camp with them, taken them too far.  How would Thomas trace a berg?  Would he need a berg of his own to find them?  How would he even get a berg?  Did anyone even know how to fly one?

            Thomas’ thoughts halted as he heard a shifting and then felt a weight against him, between his bent leg and the back of the seat.  He opened his eyes to see Newt stretched back against him, his legs bent and propped up on the bench where he’d previously been sitting.  

            Thomas’ body went still on command. He felt Newt shift against his shoulder again, and for some reason Thomas could suddenly clearly recall the mornings after the Scorch Facility when he had woken up in the back of this truck in the same position Newt was in.  Thomas pulled his arm from beneath Newt and put it around his shoulder, letting his hand rest on Newt’s chest.  He felt Newt stir a bit more against Thomas’ shoulder and Thomas angled himself a bit more against the door to let Newt lie more on his chest instead. 

            It’s not the most comfortable position for Thomas and he knew it wouldn’t be long until his leg was going numb or his back began to bother in from the way his waist was twisted in the seat.  But then, he’d dealt with worse.  He rested his head sideways onto the back of the seat and let his eyes slowly drift closed.

 

***  
  
            Thomas felt the hand on his knee, shaking it before he was even fully awake.  He finally pulled himself from sleep, yawned and looked up to where Vince was turned in his seat.  Thomas was awake instantly at the solemn look on Vince’s face.  He didn’t say anything when he ducked out of the truck.

            Thomas looked down and tapped on Newt’s chest to wake him.  He leaned down to Newt’s ear.  “Hey, wake up.”

            “Mm.”

            “Come on,” Thomas pushed himself up a bit to get Newt moving and immediately felt the pain in his lower back and neck from how he fell asleep. 

            Newt pulled himself up from Thomas and swung his legs down from the bench.  He ran a hand threw his hair as he tried to wake up, another working from his knee down his calf.

            Thomas pushed the door open with his shoulder and blinked in the afternoon sun.  He unfolded himself from the seat and immediately smelled the smoke.  He looked up to see the others hovering a bit further up the small hill they’d parked on.  He closed the door and worked his way up the hill, Newt joining him.  He stepped up next to Vince and his chest clenched tight.

            Smoke stung his eyes, ash still flitted in the wind.  But through all of it, he could see the decimation.  It made the attack on the Right Arm look like a small scuffle.  There was a massive depression in the ground, cracked and spider-webbed in every direction.  There were knocked down trees, some split entirely, shrapnel from some mysterious contraptions tossed about.  And then, littered amongst all of this, were the burnt and destroyed bodies.

            Thomas’ lungs closed off inside of him, he heard a sob somewhere to his left, something wet splashed against the ground further down the line followed by retching.  Newt stood nearly as frozen as he was next to him. 

            “What happened here?” someone asked.

            Vince’s voice came directly to Thomas’ left.  “WCKD.  They weren’t kidnapping immunes.  They were eliminating threats.”

            Thomas didn’t know how long they stood there, looking out at the destruction.  But he blinked and suddenly he was walking through it. He heard Vince’s voice across the camp.  “We came here to look for WCKD.  We can’t let The North Force die in vain.  There has to be something here.  Keep your eyes peeled.”

            “Anything helps,” Jorge joined in.  “A scrap of metal with WCKD’s insignia, a weapon, a guard’s uniform.  Anything you can find, you grab.”

            “Keep an eye out for supplies,” Joe added.  “Guns, bullets, knives.  Anything that could prove useful against them if they come back.”

            There was a silence after this, a stillness as everyone seemed to exchange a glance.  No one had to say the words, they all knew it: WCKD wasn’t coming back, there was nothing to come back to.

            Thomas shifted a piece of scrap metal with his boot, stopped immediately and screwed his eyes shut when he saw a hand beneath it.  He slowly opened his eyes again and looked around to the others.  All of them silently searching, some of them inspecting something for its worth, some of them just looking utterly lost.

            There was a sudden crash as something was dropped and it echoed.  Thomas flinched to the side to see Harriet stalking through the mess, eyes set somewhere distant.  She kept walking until she reached the edge of the camp at a line of trees.  She paused, with her arms around herself.

            Thomas reached a hand forward and tapped Newt on the back.  He caught Newt’s gaze and Newt nodded before turning back to a small dagger he’d been inspecting.

             Thomas walked slowly up to Harriet at the edge of the camp.  He stepped up next to her silently, looking up at the tall trees.  Part of him stared in awe, taken aback by the growth of them.  Behind the first line of trees stood another, and another, and another.  A whole wooded stretch seemed to run for miles.  There was a flash in Thomas’ memory of the Deadheads in the Glade.  He pushed the memory away at the sound next to him.

            He turned to see the silent tears on Harriet’s face.

            It suddenly felt off to talk.  Disrespectful.  But he knew it was just in his head.  Vince, Joe they’d all been talking as they searched.  It was just in his head.

            “Harriet, I’m sorry.”

            He watched her swallow, eyes still set somewhere distant. 

            He continued.  “You don’t have to go through this if it’s too much.  You can wait by the trucks.”

            “I knew her.”

            Thomas blinked, registered the words.  He swallowed.  “Someone here?”

            She nodded. “Anastasia.  She was in my Maze.”

            Thomas felt his chest hollow out.  He stepped closer to her, looked in her distant eyes.  “Anatasia?”

            Her eyes flicked to his now as she nodded. “Yes.”

            Thomas could feel the hurt in her eyes.  “Tell me about her.”

            Harriet glanced down and then back up to him.  “You should be searching.”

            He shook his head.  “You’re part of this team, Harriet.  There are nine other people here looking.  Talk to me.”

            Her eyes bore into his.  Then she lifted her head, swallowed, and spoke.  Her words came out clearly, as if she was convincing herself this was normal.  That this destruction was normal.  Thomas didn’t think about how it was.  “She was a sculptor.  She helped build our entire cabin before we even had twenty girls.  She was a fast mover, strong.”  Harriet swallowed.  “I always knew she’d make it.  Thought.”  Her voice broke on the last word and Thomas stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.

            Her arms tightened around him as she shuddered in his.  “I’m tired, Thomas.  I’m so damn tired of the entire sharded world.  I’m tired of being surrounded by so mu-,”

            Her words cut off at the echo of something snapping. 

            Thomas pulled back from the hug and looked at her face.  “Harriet?” 

            Her eyes were frozen over his shoulder and before he could ask what was wrong, he heard an odd, wet wheeze.  He slowly turned to look over his shoulder.  His heart plummeted a split second before he heard the growl, saw the blackened maw stretch open.  And then it lunged on scarred limbs, its black eyes set on them, darkened veins striping its face.

            Harriet spun out of the way, pulling Thomas with her. The Crank stumbled to the ground and landed on all fours.  It angled its head sharply up to them and let out an anguished cry before it was heaving itself at them again.

            Thomas jumped backward and it landed in the gap.  Harriet slung her shotgun from her shoulder.

            “Harriet, no. It’s too close.”

            “I know that!”

            He watched as she flipped her gun around and lunged forward pushing the butt of it into the Crank’s face.  It rolled backward but seemed unaffected, ready to lunge again.

            Thomas scoured the floor around him for something, anything. It lunged again and Harriet swung her shotgun around making contact with its face again.  There was a wet crunching noise that shot through Thomas.  He grabbed a jagged rock from the ground and spun to see it pouncing toward Harriet again, something misshapen and spewing black blood on its face. It grabbed Harriet’s gun and wrestled with her for it.  Thomas sprang forward and smashed the rock into the side of its head and watched it go down, its screams cut off.  Harriet flipped her gun around and aimed it down. A blast shattered the silence it left behind.

            But it was then that they both looked at each other and realized it wasn’t silence at all.

            They both sprinted, boots pounding against the rock of the cliffs.  Thomas leapt over a body and skidded to a halt to look up.  There were at least twenty of them, roaring and howling.  Thomas’ heart raced as his eyes scanned the scene.  There, directly across the camp, was Newt, something long and sharp in his hands as he blocked another swipe from a Crank and then used it to push the Crank backward into the dagger in Joe’s hand.  He yanked his hand back and the Crank collapsed to the ground.

            Thomas had to get to him.

            He took two steps before he was pummeled sideways to the ground.  He turned his head to see rotted teeth bared, a screech cutting into his ear.  He shifted his hand to the waistband of his jeans, found his dagger and yanked it out.  He arced his arm up to slam the hilt into the Cranks head, knocking it off balance and rolling from Thomas. He scrambled to his feet and unsheathed the dagger.  “Come on,” he urged to the Crank.  It hovered in front of him like a predator.  Thomas’ hand tightened on the dagger, he kept his eyes on the Crank in front of him, not on the flashes of blonde hair across the camp.

            The Crank jumped toward him and he spun out of the way, swinging his arm back to drive the dagger home into its spine.

            “Get down!”

            Thomas instinctively ducked his head.  He heard something make contact and when he looked up there was a long bow knife lodged above Thomas’ dagger. The Crank fell forward to the ground and Thomas was joined a second later by Brenda, ripping the knife out.

            Thomas reached forward and yanked the dagger out before he spun and took on the next Crank that was in his way toward Newt.

            It was a flurry of black blood, screeching and growls, nails clawing and bones crunching.  It was rotten to its core with every inhale Thomas took, rust and dirt.  Gunshots blasted in different directions, screams yelled out that he couldn’t – wouldn’t – try to discern from the chaos.

            Until he did.

            There was a shattered cry in a voice he knew all too well and something broke apart inside of him.  His vision tilted as he swiped again with his dagger, drove it home into another Crank’s neck.  The Crank dropped to the ground and cleared the view of Newt kneeling on the ground in the distance.  

            Thomas ran.  He pushed off of the ground with every ounce of strength in him and pushed past another Crank, knocking it out of the way.  He leapt over another body and landed in a continued run.  He let his knees buckle and he crashed to the ground, sliding the last bit of space to Newt.  His hands were on Newt’s shoulders immediately, spinning him to face him.

            “Newt! _Newt_!” Thomas shook his shoulders, but Newt’s eyes were locked on something to the side, just behind Thomas.  He gripped his dagger and turned, but there was no Crank.  There was only a body.

            Thomas’ chest caved.  _Was that the body he’d just leapt over without a second glance?_

            There was a gunshot that shattered Thomas’ spiral.  He looked up to where Vince was battling with a Crank a few feet away, Harriet charging toward him to help.  They couldn’t stop, there wasn’t time.

            Thomas turned back to Newt.  “Hey, look at me.”

            Newt’s eyes found his.

            “Come on, I need you up. Now. Let’s go.”

            There was a shutter across Newt’s features as he came back to the moment.  He nodded once and it was all Thomas needed. 

            He grabbed the chest of Newt’s jacket and pulled him up along with himself.  They sprinted off toward the remains of the battle.

            As they fought, Thomas’ vision was thrown back to the Grievers in the Glade, one of his earliest memories of this life.  It wasn’t lost on him that his life seemed to be filled with death and danger for as long as he could remember.  The screams and clawing echoed through his head like they did all those months ago in the abandoned mall.  Losing Jack had been a pinprick in the scattered ruins of his memories.  He never got to know him, never got to mourn him.  How many others in the Glade did he lose?  How many names did he not know?  The bodies littered around him at The Right Arm’s raid, the chaos and blur of gunfire and screams.  The screams now in his face as he jumped backward out of reach of the claws to his face.  The Crank grabbed a hold of his jacket instead and Thomas lifted his dagger.  It was another roar in his face before he tried to slash, but it was silenced by a gunshot and before he could register it, his jacket was pulled forward in the Crank’s grasp, his whole body gave to the force of it and in a flash of horror he saw the empty space, the drop.

 

            And then he was over the edge of the cliff, a shattered cry of his name chasing him.

 

 

            His hands scraped for purchase until he found it, felt his shoulders burn with the way they locked to hold him up, kept him from falling the rest of the way.  He kicked out his legs, trying to rid the Crank still clinging onto him.  He swung his free leg forward and then bent his knee, watched it collide with the Crank’s face and then repeated it.  One the third kick the Crank finally gave in and let go.  It fell the rest of the way into the canyon and Thomas shut his eyes at the sight.  He bought his focus back to the small crevice he was able to hold onto.  He looked around for a stepping stone, but then looked up when he heard his name.

            Frypan looked over the edge, meeting his gaze.  “Thank God, Thomas.  Hold on!”

            Thomas nodded as Fry disappeared beyond the edge of the cliff again.  His fingers ached, his right shoulder felt oddly stiff suddenly and there was a sharpening pain in his side he tried not to think about.

            Finally, Frypan returned, unraveled something and dropped it down to him.  “It’s the paracord! Grab a hold of it and we’ll pull you up!”

            Thomas nodded as the paracord was dropped down toward him.  He watched it dangle next to him, but froze.  How was he gonna grab that and hold onto the ledge at the same time?  He checked again for a foothold. 

            “Thomas grab the chord!”

            Thomas swallowed, watched as they pulled the chord a bit closer to him so it was nearly draped over his arm. He has to do this.  It would be one quick movement.  Just one hand to twist and grab the cord.  It would be a split second.

            He took a deep breath, exhaled, and moved.

            He pulled his left arm from the wall and gripped the chord.  He barely registered the scream from his throat when his right arm gave out and slipped from the ledge.  His left hand was wrapped in the paracord, holding him up, dangling him above the drop.  His right arm hung limp at his side, heavy. 

            He felt the pull of the chord, tried using his legs to brace some of his weight on the wall. 

            “Give me your arm!” Vince called.

            “I can’t,” Thomas shook his head.

            “Come on, I’ve gotta pull you up!”

            “I can’t lift it,” Thomas gasped out.

            “Alright hang on,” Vince groaned, tugging the rope with Frypan. 

            Thomas felt hands grasp at his jacket, let himself be pulled up, let another anguished yell out as Vince pulled at his arm. 

            But he made it.  He was back on the surface.  He waited for the colors to disappear from his vision.

            “It’s dislocated,” a voice said.  “Hang on.  Thomas, I need you to look at me.”

            Thomas blinked against the silhouette in front of the sun.  He smelled rust and clover.

            “Look at me.”

            “Harriet,” he breathed. 

            “Good,” she said.  “And what’s your name?”

            “What?” He furrowed his brow at her.  “I’m not concus-,” there was a shockwave through his shoulder down to his arm and around his back, but suddenly the pain was gone and replaced by a throbbing, heavy pulse.

            “Try moving it,” she said, sitting back on her heels.

            Thomas tried lifting his arm and then let it drop. He sucked in a breath.  “Hurts, but I can move it. Get me up.”  He let the others help him stand and now that he’d registered he was alive, it all hit him at once.  His neck snapped up.  Before he even asked the question, his eyes met Newt’s directly in front of him. 

            “Tommy,” he breathed.

            Thomas nodded. 

            Newt nodded.  And then his eyes glassed, emptied.

            Newt didn’t turn so much as the breeze happened to blow him off to the side, pushed him toward the far edge of the camp by the line of trees.

            Frypan turned to look back at Thomas.  Even though there were no words exchanged, Thomas understood.  He stepped forward and through Frypan and Harriet and made his way toward the tree line.

 

            It was quiet now, the only sounds were murmurs behind him as the group gathered themselves up.  Thomas didn’t think of who exactly that included.  Who it no longer included. 

            His focus was on Newt standing at the tree line, staring up at them. 

            Thomas walked up and stood next to him, looked up to the trees as well.

            They stood in silence for however long it was.

            “I thought,” Newt choked out.  Thomas heard the shaking breath as he tried again.  “I thought you fell.”

            Thomas looked down at him now.  “I’m right here.”

            “I watched you fall.”

            “I’m right here,” Thomas repeated.

            “You were gone.”

            “I’m not.”

            Newt choked on some unspoken word.

            Thomas turned to face him now. “Newt, look at me.  Look at me.  I’m right here.”

            Newt stared at the trees, eyes flicking from one to another, watching some distant memory that Thomas couldn’t place.

            “Tommy,” he breathed out.  Newt’s knees buckled and he slammed into the dirt and rock below.

            Thomas was on the ground in front of him before he even realized it, but Newt’s eyes were still on the trees.  “Newt, look at me.  Please.”

            It took a moment, took a moment for something to settle in Newt’s mind.  Thomas watched his eyes go still, something registering in them.  They slowly came back, defogged.  They slid up to meet Thomas’.  His hands slowly reached up and Thomas waited, let him work it out for himself.  Let his hands shake along Thomas’ jacket, along his shoulders and arms, his eyes following their movements as if to make sure it was real. And then his eyes found Thomas’ again.   When Newt took a breath, Thomas finally did as well.

            “It’s you,” Newt nodded.

            “I’m here,” Thomas nodded. “I’m here.” He reached forward, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, the throbbing pain still pulsing, wrapped his arms around Newt.  He felt the slow, loose hug back before he sat back on his knees again to look at Newt.

            There was something broken in his gaze now.  Not like before.  Not the emptiness it was before.  This time, it was a loss, it was pain.

            Thomas swallowed as everything from before the fall rushed back into his memory again, clearer now.  He reached out to Newt’s hand, lightly grasped his fingers.

            “Tommy,” Newt breathed. “What am I gonna tell Fran?”

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry for the super late posting. I literally have 9 minutes for notes let's do this! These will probably be rushed. Yikes.
> 
> 1\. I promised you a long chapter to make up for last week. Huzzah!
> 
> 2\. Yes, Josh finally told Bernard. Had to happen. 
> 
> 3\. Which means the rest of the group found out. But of course half of them already knew because damn teenagers can't keep secrets. Poor adults.
> 
> 4\. Manny, Fran and Ian - :( It's bittersweet. Sadly, they are gone from the group now. But happily, they are en route to the Safe Haven!
> 
> 5\. Pit stops - Poor Thomas was struggling. He had a lot of worries and doubts. Finally figured it out. For real this time. Dumb boys.
> 
> 6\. (Yes, it was a mint leaf...)
> 
> 7\. The Arka Cliffs - Just... I'm sorry.. Unfortunately this had been written into the story since day one. 
> 
> 8\. Special thanks to Amanda for naming Anastasia, and to Owen for naming Johnny!
> 
> I'm sorry my notes are in shambles. I want to rush to get this up for you guys. I'll go back and edit these later. Love you all so so so much for your never-ending support and patience! It floors me that so many of your have read this, let alone STILL read it. I fell behind on answering comments from last chapter but I'm ON IT TOMORROW I PROMISE. I love talking with you guys about the chapters. Your words make my heart swell. <3


	20. On Requiems and Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Goodbye Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of character death, dealing with aftermath of death, memorial/funeral tone, mentions of injury and blood

 

            _“Hey. It’s Thomas, right?”_

_Thomas turned at the unfamiliar voice and looked up into curious eyes. He didn’t recognize them, but then... he didn’t recognize half the people who’d spoken to him over the past few days._

_The person held a hand out.  “Joe.”_

_Thomas’ eyes flitted down to the extended hand.  He wound the wheels in his head, made the blood flow, convinced himself to remember how to react.  He reached out and shook Joe’s hand.  “Nice to meet you.”_

_Joe took a breath, hands finding their way into his pockets.  “So, I just wanted to come say hi.  Vince said you’re the one to look to for direction,” he nodded.  There was a smile on his face that Thomas couldn’t understand.  It was only two days ago that WCKD had annihilated The Right Arm.  How was this guy smiling?_

_“Okay,” Thomas said._

_“Everything alright, here?” A familiar voice joined them and something loosened in Thomas’ chest as Newt stepped up to them.  “Hey,” Newt turned to Joe and held a hand out.  “Name’s Newt.”_

_“Newt,” Joe nodded, shaking his hand. “Name’s Joe. I was just telling Thomas to let me know what you’ll need from me. I can’t do much,” he shrugged, hands back in his pockets, “but I know a few things that might be helpful.  I used to know people who were great at mechanics.  Learned some stuff from them.” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck.  “Uh, let’s see.  Wires,” he said, gesturing vaguely.  “I’m pretty good with anything electric, to be honest.  Well, ‘good’ being a relative term, I guess it’s really how you define it.”  He let out a small laugh._

_Thomas blinked._

_Newt shrugged next to him.  “Don’t know that we’ll find much in the way of electricity but it’s good to know. Yeah, Tommy?”_

_He felt Newt’s hand clap him once on the back.  He nodded._

_“Cool,” Joe nodded. “And uh… trucks! I’ve got a truck,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder and turned in the direction of a beat-up truck.  “It’s, uh, it runs kinda smoothly. As good as it can, anyway.”_

_This was something useful._

_Thomas sidestepped Joe and walked toward the truck.  They’d need transportation. He didn’t know how far it was to the WCKD Facility, how long it would take.  But trucks would get them there faster. He heard Newt and Joe following him as he stopped in front of it.  Faded and chipped paint, a small dent in the driver’s side door.  His eyes snagged on the broken glass of the headlight._

_“Uh, yeah. Headlight got smashed in at Diamond Road.”_

_Thomas didn’t know nor care what Diamond Road was.  He cared about having light when they’d need it.  “Can it be fixed?”_

_“Definitely.  Just need to get my hands on the right supplies.”_

_Thomas nodded. “Okay. Good.” He turned to Newt. “I’m gonna check on Brenda.”  He couldn’t tell if it was concern or confusion on Newt’s face, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now.  He needed to focus on getting them moving.  Minho was being tortured as they stood here staring at a headlight.  It was time to go._

_“Sure,” Newt nodded._

_Thomas turned to walk away but stopped as Joe called out to him.  “Anything you need, Thomas, let me know.  I’m in this with you.”_

_Thomas turned to look at him, took in Joe’s lanky build and wiry frame, eager eyes.  He was older than them but not by much.  He still somehow still had this young energy about him.  He looked like someone who had no idea what he was getting into.  “Can you fight?”_

_Joe’s face faltered a bit._

_“WCKD, cranks, anyone in our way,” Thomas clarified.  “Can you fight?”_

_Joe’s eyes flashed with something Thomas didn’t quite grasp, but he nodded.  That was what was important._

_“Yeah,” he said.  “I can fight.”_

_“Good.” Thomas turned back to the direction of Brenda’s tent.  “That’s what we’ll need.”_

_  
_

***

   
  
            Thomas blinked.

            Stared at the body in front of him.

 

            Torn, ragged lines stretched from Joe’s neck to his chest, dark red blossoms dried over a tattered gray shirt.  A much larger open wound took up most of the spot between his neck and shoulder on the opposite side of these lines and, for all its horror, Thomas found he couldn’t look away.  A dried, red trail ran down Joe’s face from a spot right next to his eyes.  Someone had the decency to close them, and Thomas was suddenly aware that he had no idea what they ever looked like.  

           

            “You ready?”

 

            Thomas blinked, finally tore his eyes away and looked up at Jorge.  There was a slice across his jaw. He nodded, swallowed dry and shallow.  “Yeah.”

            “Thomas, you don’t have to do this.”

            “I do,” Thomas nodded. He turned to look down from the hill, toward the trucks.  Vince was inside of his own, hadn’t been seen for the past hour.  There was a spider web crack of glass in the driver’s side window of his truck, the only sound Thomas could remember hearing from below.

            The others waited down there in the silence, blank faces and distant eyes. The last few hours had been brutal.

 

***  
 

           

            _They’d stayed there for hours, Newt’s muscles slowly giving way to the tension and finally letting him collapse into Thomas’ arms.  Thomas moved only once to sit behind Newt, letting him lean back into him, heart beating against Newt’s back._

_I’m here, I’m here, I’m here._

_They watched the trees, the camp behind them and out of view._

_The sun was still up when Newt stirred, sat up straighter.  “Tommy?”  
            “I’m here.”  He bent his head enough for the low words to be heard. Not that it would have made a difference.  There was only silence around them._

_He felt Newt’s hand tighten once around his wrist, bruised and cut knuckles vibrant.  Thomas tightened his arms around him in response.  His heart continued to beat against Newt’s back._

_Thomas felt guilty._

_He knew he shouldn’t, but he did.  He felt Newt settle against his chest, smelled the sweat and rust of his skin tinged with the ever-present mint.  He listened to him breathe, let him lean his head back on Thomas’ shoulder and watched his eyes flicker among the trees. Always on the trees.  He watched Newt live._

_Thomas felt guilty._

_He hadn’t checked on the others yet.  Yes, he registered Frypan, Harriet, Brenda and Vince.  He knew they were somewhere behind him.  Somewhere, they were active.  They were moving, they were whispering, they were being._

_Thomas felt guilty for the relief.  He felt guilty for thanking everything he could think of for Newt alive with him.  Thomas considered them lucky and he felt guilty._

_He didn’t think of the body, somewhere lost in the wreckage behind him._

_He didn’t think if there were others._

_He thought of Newt living._

 

 

***

  
             
            Thomas felt Jorge’s hand clasp on his shoulder.

            “You take your time.  There’s no rush for this.”

            Thomas shook his head.

            It wasn’t about rushing, it wasn’t about getting it over with.  It was about not leaving him here.  Any of them.

            It was about respect.

            It was about giving them what WCKD took away.  Giving them what so many others didn’t get to have, would never have.

            It was about what he would want if ever…  
  
            “No.  We do this now.”  He looked up at Jorge, who nodded down at him, a sad smile on his face.

            “You’re strong, _hermano_.  You know that?”

            Thomas blinked.  
  
  
  
 

***

  
  
            _“Thomas.”_

_He only slightly away from Newt when he heard Jorge’s voice, quiet and cautious._

_“When you have a minute,” Jorge nodded, eyes flicking to Newt and back to Thomas._

_“Coming.”_

_“Take your time.”  Jorge turned and walked off to the side by the cliff, hands folded behind his back as he looked out across the canyon._

_Thomas turned back to Newt._

_“Go ahead,” Newt straightened and leaned forward, cricking his neck to the side.  “I’m okay.”_

_“Newt,” Thomas started._

_“Really, Tommy,” he turned to look at him over his shoulder.  “I kind of want a minute anyway, if that’s alright?”_  
  
            _Thomas felt something sharp pang in his chest, but he pushed it aside.  He knew this was bigger than himself.  He nodded.  “I’ll be right over there.  You call me the minute you need me.”_

_Newt laughed, and it broke something in Thomas to never see it reach his eyes.  “I’ll be okay, Tommy. Go.”_

_Thomas pushed himself up to his feet as Newt turned back to the trees.  He watched him for a minute longer before he finally pulled himself away and walked to Jorge._

_“What’s going on?”_

_Jorge turned to look at him.  They stood in silence a moment and then Jorge pulled Thomas in close to him.  “I’m glad you’re alright, Thomas.”_

_Thomas nodded into Jorge’s shoulder as he hugged him back with one arm.  “You too.”_

_Jorge stepped back.  “Brenda told me.”  He glanced over his shoulder at the canyon._

_Thomas swallowed the memory down, felt the ache present in his shoulder still._

_Jorge nodded.  “Thomas, there’s no rush, obviously.  I know this is a dark time, I get that.  Which is why I want to let you know that I’m here.”_

_Thomas’ brows flicked._

_“I’ve seen my fair share of this,” he nodded to the scene behind Thomas, the scene Thomas refused to acknowledge.  “I’ve buried more friends than I can count.”_

_Something plummeted in Thomas’ chest._

_“So, I’m here. When you’re ready.” Jorge nodded. “I will help.  I’ll do it all if you need me to.”_

_Thomas shook his head slowly.  “I’m leading this mission.  It’s my responsibility.”_

_“Thomas,” Jorge paused and reworked his words. “You don’t have to do it on your own.”_

_Thomas nodded. “Thanks, Jorge.”_

_“You saved Brenda’s life.  I’ll never stop thanking you for that.”_

_“You don’t have to.”_

_“I know,” Jorge nodded, folding his hands behind his back again. “But Thomas… And, again, I’m not rushing you,” he paused, making sure Thomas understood.  “We’ll have to reconfigure soon.  Let me take some of this off your shoulders for you.”_

_Thomas swallowed and nodded._

_“Especially now that you’ve only got one good one.”_

_He let himself smile a bit.  “Yeah, guess you’re right.”_

_Jorge nodded. “Go to Newt.  You let me know when you’re ready.”_

  
  
***

  
  
  
            Jorge returned, the single folded sheet in his hand. Placed it on the ground to be used later.

            They worked in silence.  
 

            Thomas told Jorge to only take one sheet.  They didn’t have enough for all of them. There were so many, and Thomas tried to keep count but lost it.  Adults, teenagers, kids younger than him.  He blinked away visions of Chuck. 

            His shoulder ached with each body, but he didn’t stop.  Even when Jorge insisted, pretended to need rest because of his age, Thomas would move onto the next one.

            He brushed wild brown matted hair from an ashen face. 

 

 

***

  
            _“I collected some weapons,” Harriet said, leading Thomas to a pile of supplies next to Jorge’s truck.  “There are some shotguns.  This one’s got a broken barrel, but maybe Josh can fix it,” she tossed it to the side.  “A few knives, figured you’d like these.  This one reminded me of you,” she pressed one into Thomas’ hand as he stared at her.  “It’s got a serrated back edge and the hilt is curved.  Probably not good for throwing, but it’s handy to have.” She laughed. “Handy, get it?”_

_Thomas blinked._

_She took a breath through her split lip and barreled on.  “I emptied out all the cartridges and put the bullets in this bag.  More than I expected, to be honest.  We’ll probably have to go through them and see which bullets will go with which guns but maybe Newt can help with that.  He seems to have learned his way around a gun.  Bernard, too.”_

_“Harriet.”_

_“I emptied out a few more of the packs I found, too.  There are some extra clothes in the pile over here,” she stepped over the guns and nudged a couple flannels and jeans with her boot.  “Probably have to clean them, some of them smell like the worst sweat ever.  And that’s coming after I spent months in the Scorch with you boys.”_

_“Harriet.”_

_“There wasn’t much food, but they had a couple cans in one of the tents.  I already stockpiled those in the back of the truck here,” she said as she peered into Jorge’s truck.  “I mean, I’m not really sure what half of the stuff is but I mean food is food, right? Worth it to try.  Frypan can probably do something with it.  Maybe Jorge can help him, they seemed to work pretty well over the bread and stuff.  Maybe they can figure something out with this.”_

_Thomas shifted his weight._

_“Med supplies,” she pointed to another pile with a scarred hand.  “It’s not much, really.  Just a couple bandages.  I really hoped we’d find more of that alcohol.  We’re running low and I used a lot of it earlier on everyone.  Matt’s definitely going to need more.  I tried to help patch him up as best I could but,” she chewed her lip and shook her head.  “It would’ve been nice to have Fran or someone here who really knew what they were doing.  I mean, I can only do so much, especially with the limited supplies.  But I’ll check on him again in a few.”_

_“Harriet,” Thomas tried again._

_“And then we’ve got all of this,” she gestured to a pile at her feet. “Stuff.”_

_Thomas dropped his gaze to the multitude of wires, cables, batteries.  Plastic casings and antennas._

_“I mean, I’m not really sure if anyone will know what exactly to do with them, but they can’t hurt to have. I bet we could find some use for them, maybe with lighting or if we need to replace anything we have or something.  I don’t know.  It just seems like something that would’ve been important to grab for…”_

_Thomas kept his eyes on Harriet where she froze, eyes trapped on the wires.  She swallowed._

_“Harriet?” he said, barely above a whisper._

_She finally looked up at him, responded in the same tone.  “Thomas.”_

_He stepped over the pile in front of him and his arm was around her instantly, holding her to him.  
_

  
  
  
***

  
  
            He moved Anastasia with the others.

 

            He helped as much as he could, using his left arm to pull most of the weight.  Jorge took the lead on most of it, but let Thomas step in when he insisted.  They stepped up to the first of the Cranks scattered throughout the camp.

            “Verdict?” Jorge asked.

            “They were people once,” Thomas answered.

            Jorge only nodded in response.

 

***

  
  
  
            _Seeing Josh had been a relief Thomas didn’t expect, despite the blossoming bruise on his cheek and the small cut along it.  He’d stepped up to Thomas and Newt as they sat at the bottom of the hill after dragging themselves away from the Camp.  Bernard stood in the distance, arms folded across his chest and covered in blood.  Thomas couldn’t tell from the distance if it was his or someone else’s.  He brought his focus back to Josh._

_“Newt,” Josh started._

_Thomas took in the shaking hands Josh now shoved in his pockets, the shattered look on his face.  Thomas could feel the nerves in the air ricocheting back and forth, sinking into him and causing his leg to twitch. He rested a hand on it in a casual attempt to settle it._

_Newt looked up at Josh._

_“I just,” Josh started.  He took in a long shaking breath, exhaled a short one. “I,” he started again.  He shifted his shoulders, rolled his neck and spoke again.  “Thank you.”_

_Thomas blinked.  He turned to Newt._

_Newt continued looking up at Josh, expression blank._

_“I know it might not seem like a big deal to you, and maybe it isn’t.  I know that everything sucks right now and there are a million other things I should be saying but…”_

_Thomas looked back up to Josh._

_“But thank you,” he finished._

_There was a small shift next to Thomas as Newt started to stand.  His hand found Thomas’ shoulder in support and Thomas bit down on the expanding ache that seared through him down to his fingertips.  He watched Newt limp forward to Josh and pull him into his arms._

_Something was said between the two, muffled against each other’s shoulders, but Thomas didn’t try to work it out. Now wasn’t the time for questions, nor was it the time for the stinging in his chest.  It was the time for comfort, comradery.  It was time for family._

 

***

 

  
            They continued to pile the Cranks with the others at the edge of the cliff.

 

            “She told me you protected her,” Jorge said as they added another.

            Thomas looked up at him, met his eyes.  “I did what?”

            “She told me you killed a Crank that she hadn’t seen coming toward her.”

            Thomas blinked, tried to remember the course of events from just a few hours ago.  All he could remember was Newt’s yell, battling his way toward where he was knelt on the ground in front of…

            “Thank you for that,” Jorge nodded at him.  “For all of it.”

            Thomas turned.  “No need.  She’s family.”

 

 

***

  
            _Brenda shuffled cards between cut up hands._

_“Hey,” Thomas started._

_She looked up at him and in a flash, she was standing, cards abandoned on the floor.  She sniffed at the dried blood trailing from her nose.  “Hey.”_

_They stood for a moment looking at each other._

_“You okay?” she asked._

_“Shoulder aches, but other than that,” he shrugged with the other.  “You?”_

_“That’s not what I meant.”_

_Thomas swallowed.  “I know.”_

_Brenda took a breath and looked off behind Thomas.  He followed her gaze._

_Frypan sat in the sand a few feet away between trucks. He seemed okay on the surface, if you didn’t focus on his distant gaze.  Matt laid on a blanket next to him and Fry’s hand rested on his arm.  The dried blood had mostly been washed away from Matt’s face, but he was still pale, shaking.  Thomas hadn’t heard him speak yet._

_“Is he doing any better?”_

_Brenda took a breath, squinted in their direction.  She turned back to Thomas.  “How’s Newt taking it?”_

_Thomas felt the sting in his chest, looked off to where Newt stood with Bernard.  “He’s strong.”_

_“You both are.”_

_Thomas turned back to her.  “You are too, you know.”_

_Brenda rolled her eyes, but the smile that typically accompanied it was nowhere to be found.  “Jorge said he’d help you.”_

_Thomas swallowed. “I know.”_

_She looked up at him.  “He also said he’d take care of it all.”_

_“I know.”_

_They stayed there a moment with their gazes locked.  “You know I would-”_

_“Brenda, don’t.” Thomas shook his head, a faint smile growing.  “I know.  It’s different with you.  I don’t want you anywhere up there.”_

_She squinted up at him.  Her hair had definitely started to grow in now, curling around her ears, bangs almost reaching her eyes now._

_Thomas reached forward and swept them away.    “I couldn’t take losing you.  Any of you.  Anyone else.”_

_“Don’t do that,” Brenda sighed.  “It sucks, Thomas.  It’s really fuckin’ sucks.  I get that. But listen to me.  It’s going to be okay.  You lose people, that’s life.”_

_Thomas felt something strike in his chest._

_“You know that, I know that.  We all do.  We’ve all lost people long before this.  That doesn’t make this any easier at all.  I’m not saying it does.” She sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m saying, honestly. I guess just that… there are worse ways to go than fighting for your friends’ lives.  For your family.”_

_Thomas swallowed, pushed back the memory of Brenda’s strained veins and darkened lips all those months ago, the suffering.  He pushed it out completely.  “Keep me updated on Matt.”_

_Brenda nodded. “You know I will.”_

 

  
***

  
            Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, winced at the tightened muscles in his shoulder.  He kept forgetting, kept moving too fast or too suddenly.

            “You should have Harriet check that out again.  It’ll need to be drained, probably.”

            “Drained?” Thomas rose a brow at him.

            “You’ve got fluid in it.  You look lopsided.”

            Thomas nodded, a small laugh issuing.  “Thanks, Jorge.”

            “No, no, I’m not saying anything bad,” Jorge laughed.  “Just that if you don’t let it heal correctly, it can become permanently damaged.  I’ve had plenty of friends who’ve had dislocations or fractures and just let them heal on their own.  They’re never the same.  Harriet’s decent with it.  Granted, it was Fran who…”  Jorge’s eyes jumped to Thomas’.  “Well, anyway.  Just have her check it out.”

            Thomas nodded, ignoring the memory of Fran being able to tend to Joe’s leg after the cave, ignoring the relief Joe felt when he realized he could walk on it again, run, dance.  All for this.

            “Thomas,” Jorge started.  “I don’t mean to rush you, but I do want to put it in your head, since it’s something we need to think about.”

            Thomas looked up at him again.  “The truck.”

            Jorge nodded. “You already thought about it.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “We can’t leave it here.  We’ve got Frypan and Brenda.  One of them can take over driving it.  We’ve still got you and Vince for your trucks.”

            “Of course.”

            Thomas swallowed and turned to look back toward the hill where it sloped downward toward the trucks.  He couldn’t see them from this spot on the cliff, but he was sure the scene was the same.

 

 

***

 

  
            _It was only silence.  Wind through naked branches, a few flutters of thin twigs blowing across the ground._

_Thomas wanted to hear water in the distance, wanted to hear a bird – anything.  But there was nothing alive here.  Only silence._

_Until there wasn’t._

_He flinched his shoulders, ducked his head, legs shifting into a defensive stance.  The crack echoed in the canyon and across the camp.  He didn’t have to peer over the hill to know what it was._

_When he made it to the bottom of the slope, he’d walked directly to Vince’s truck, looked through the spider webbed window to where Vince sat in the driver’s seat.  Thomas knocked once on the door._

_Vince turned his head to look at him through the glass._

_Thomas stepped back, made room for the door to open, but it never did._

_Vince turned to look forward again._  
  
_Thomas supposed it didn’t make a difference.  What would there be to say?  He remembered how distant Vince had been when the plan was first put into motion back at The Right Arm, how tough it was for Thomas to break past the barrier Vince had put up._

_Part of him worried that it would come back, and what it would mean._

_Part of him worried that it wouldn’t, and what that would mean.  
_

  
  
***

  
  
            The last body was added to the pile.

 

            Almost the last body.

 

            Thomas blinked.

            Stared at the body in front of him.

 

            Jorge stepped up next to him.  “They’re coming up now.  I can take it from here, Thomas.”

            He shook his head.  “No, it’s fine.”  Thomas could feel Jorge’s eyes on him, but didn’t look up.  He only looked straight ahead at Joe.  “Did you get it?”

            “Yes, it’s over there on the rock.”

            He turned and his eyes fell on what he searched for.   Something ached in his chest.  “Thank you.”

            “We all agreed with you.”

            Thomas nodded. He had a feeling they would, but part of him wondered if it would matter if they didn’t.

 

 

 

            Thomas watched the edge of the hill as shadows began to crest it.  One by one, faces appeared. 

            Harriet, looking strikingly changed without her shotgun.

            Josh and Bernard, pulling a sheet behind them through the sand with branches in it, a bottle of something tucked into Josh’s jacket.

            Brenda and Fry with Matt carried between them, his arms around their shoulders.

            Vince, darkened eyes and gaunt face.  In his unscarred hand was a plastic red container.

            And Newt limping just behind him, mouth set in a line.

 

            “Thomas,” Jorge softly spoke up next to him.  “It’s time.”

            He nodded.  “Okay.”

            He turned and followed Jorge as they stepped up to Joe.

 

            It was a simple thing to block out his vision.  To ignore what he was doing, to ignore what he was seeing in front of him.  Thomas could handle that.  He could work through pain, both physical and emotional.  He could put up walls and push things aside for later. 

            Thomas had plenty of practice in this. 

 

            He stood at the top of Joe’s body, didn’t let himself look down.  Kept his eyes trained on Jorge across from him.  He gave the slightest nod and then they both moved.

            Thomas crouched and snaked his arms beneath Joe’s, let his legs burn as he pushed himself back up in tandem with Jorge.  He ignored the fire bursting to life in his shoulder, crackling all the way across his chest and back, down his arm.

            They laid him back down on the spread-out sheet and Thomas didn’t bother letting himself enjoy the break from the pain.  He continued to push his focus away, continued to let a film slowly build over the actions.

            He followed Jorge’s lead.

            They folded the sheet one way.  The other. 

            He heard a broken sob from the side.

            He pushed that away, too.

 

            It was repetitive.

 

            He stood at the top of Joe’s covered body.  Kept his eyes trained on Jorge across from him.  He gave the slightest nod and they both moved.

            Again, he pushed the pain from his shoulder.  He pushed the pain from his legs.  From his chest.  They carried him to the others.

 

            They placed the body down at the front and stepped backward.  A moment passed before Thomas turned, heard Jorge follow him. 

            He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he heard shuffling between Josh and Bernard.  He listened as they unraveled the sheet on the ground, listened as thick branches clacked and scraped together.

            He looked up as Bernard stepped in front of him, blue eyes glassed over.  Thomas reached out and wrapped his hand around the thick branch, felt the bark against his skin.  He tightened his grip as Bernard moved on to Jorge.

            Thomas’ eyes trained themselves on Vince, slowly circling the bodies, plastic red bin upturned in his arms. He watched the dirt darken beneath the fluid.

            His focus switched to Josh who placed a small basin of liquid on the ground.  He watched as everyone stepped up to it and then he slowly followed.  Matt pulled away from Fry and Brenda, dragged himself forward and immersed the clothed end of his branch in the liquid.

            Vince returned to the circle, took his branch from Bernard.

            Josh was the first. 

            Thomas watched the strike, heard the scrape of the match and watched it grow as Josh held it up to the damp cloth on his branch. 

            The reds and oranges were blinding.  Thomas let it film his vision.

             Josh reached to the side, pressed his torch to Bernard’s.  It lit up just as fast.

            It passed from person to person down the line. 

            Thomas turned as Newt tilted his toward him.  He watched the fire catch on the cloth, both of them trapped in the same flame for a brief moment.  He caught Newt’s eye, the same distance in them, the same film. 

            Thomas turned to Jorge.  Passed the flame on.

 

            The line of them stood there for a moment looking forward. 

           

            Thomas’ mind swam through a blur of handing out flashlights, asking about nightmares, smiling on boulders.

            Reunions.

            Stories.

            Radios.

            Slingshots.

            Dances.

            Thomas stopped himself.

 

            He moved.

 

            He heard, more than saw, the others follow him.  He stepped up to the damp line, listened to the others spread out on either side of him.

            When the silence took back over again, he took a breath.  He lowered his torch to the ground in time with the others’.

            The flame took immediately to the fuel, racing and joining the other bursts of flame from the rest of the torches.  It encircled the bodies, grew and blocked them from view. 

 

            The group stepped back and stood in the silence, let the crackling flame take over and mask any choked breaths that escaped.  Thomas watched the smoke rise into the air. 

            He waited.

            Let the moment settle.

 

            He looked to the side and nodded to Josh.

           

            Josh stepped up first, arched his hand back and tossed the torch over the circle of flame and into the center.  The others stepped up and one by one and added their own.  Released their goodbyes.  Made their peace.

            Josh led them back down the hill to the trucks.

 

            Thomas watched as Newt limped forward.  His brow was furrowed, mouth still set in a line.  He stood in silence for a minute, maybe two, maybe more. 

            His arm cocked back and he let the torch soar forward.

            Thomas watched his shoulders lift with an inhale and drop once before Newt turned away.  Thomas reached an arm out, brushed his knuckles against Newt’s as he walked past him. 

 

            Thomas stepped up.

 

            He looked into the flame ahead of him.  Took in the wood and smoke around him.  He turned his head and looked at his shoulder, rolled it backward once.  He bit down on the pain, rolled it forward.  Repeat. 

 

            He looked back up to the flame.  He could do this.  He would.

 

            Thomas flipped his grip on the torch, pulled his shoulder back.  He inhaled sharply as the pain shot through him.  He would deal with it.  He would do this for Joe. He would do this for Joe, Anastasia, all of them.  He would do this for those who didn’t get a proper goodbye.  He would do this for Alby. For Jeff.  For Winston.  For Chuck.  For every person that WCKD had abandoned, had used, had tortured, had tossed aside. For everyone who they would save.  He would do this for Minho.  For Aris and Sonya. For everyone who wasn’t there. He would do this for Manny.  He would do this for Fran and for Ian.

            He would do this for all of them.

 

            He pushed his shoulder forward through the pain, released the torch and let it soar through the flames, watched it hit its mark in the center.

 

            Something broke in his chest.  He felt the exhale crack as the flame burst to life among the others.

            He felt a hand tug him to the side.

            Let Newt lead him away.

 

           

***

 

 

            “Hey,” Thomas finally pulled back a bit from Newt where they stood at the crest of the hill.  He pulled his arms from around him.  “Before we go, I just…”

            Newt tilted his head.

            Thomas squeezed his fingers in his before he let go and walked to the side where Jorge had placed Joe’s folded jacket.  He walked it back over to Newt.

            “We all talked about it, and since Fran’s not here…” Thomas looked down at it.  “I know it’s not much, but we also know how close you were with him.  I don’t know.  Maybe it’s stupid, but I thought you should at least decide what happens to it.”

            He was answered with silence.  When he finally looked up, Newt was staring at the jacket in his hands.

            Thomas swallowed.  “Like I said, it’s a small gesture. And I get it if you don’t want it.  If you want me to take care of it, I ca-”

            He cut his words when Newt reached forward and took the jacket. 

            Their eyes finally met above it and Thomas nearly broke in the exchange.

            Newt blinked a few times, cleared away whatever loss was in them.  He opened his mouth, looked back down at the jacket, and exhaled in defeat.

            Thomas reached forward and wrapped an arm around Newt’s shoulders.  He pressed his forehead to Newt’s temple.  “Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper.  “I’m here.”  He felt a small shuddered breath escape Newt, and tightened his arm around him.  “I’m here.”

           

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’ve all enjoyed this chapter as much as you could, given the content. 
> 
> 1\. Joe - I wanted to give Joe a proper goodbye. I’m typically not one for OCs in stories, so including them in my own was pretty shocking even to me. But it was necessary to move the plot along and to propel Thomas forward. I always planned on having him die because I needed to touch on the group dealing with death of someone they'd grown close to and to show how brutal the Scorch and the world can be. I just didn’t realize I would end up liking him as much as I did :/ So I had to give him a memorial chapter. Thanks for humoring me as I say goodbye to him.
> 
> 2\. Everyone grieves differently. I tried to sorta blend that in here by including bits and pieces of Thomas going around the group.
> 
> 3\. Attempted a different sort of writing style here with this chapter. I hope it wasn’t confusing with everything going back and forth. I wanted the chapter to take place just while Thomas and Jorge were setting up the Memorial Pyre, and just show little flashbacks to how the group has been coping. Hope that came across right..
> 
> 4\. I hate using “hermano,” that often. It just feels off sometimes or like it’s used too often. So have lots of “Thomas” instead. Either way, I love Jorge and when Vince couldn't step up because he was far too close to Joe and the entire situation itself, Jorge did. Jorge seems the type of person who'd be able to take control in these situations. I love him.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the support you've all given this fic. I am absolutely floored at every single one of your comments. <3 Hope you all continue to enjoy.


	21. On Directions and Decluttering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: For the Love of God, Someone Help With Directions

 

 

 

            “Alright, give me that stuff next,” Jorge said.  “No, no, not the clothes. Give me the food.”

            He was standing in the back of the truck, leaning over the edge and pointing things out to Josh and Bernard as they handed him the items the group was able to gather.

            Thomas watched as they started to hand up several cans and boxes of food for Jorge to fit into the truck with the leftover supplies from the previous towns. They were starting to gain an inventory and Thomas distantly wondered if they would have to leave items behind.  He already knew the answer.  He stepped up to the truck.  “Jorge, hold off for a minute.”

            Jorge paused to look down at him.

            Thomas twitched his arm toward his face but stopped at the sudden surge of pain along his shoulder.  He let it settle back at his side.  “We’ve gotta go through everything.  There’s no way all of this is fitting in the trucks.”

            Jorge tilted his head back a bit while looking around at the inside of the truck bed and then to the piles of supplies along the floor.  “No, I guess you’re right.”

            Thomas nodded up at him.  “I’ll get the others.  We’ll all start going through everything.  Comb through, leave anything behind that we don’t need.  I want the backpacks emptied, too.  We make space where we can.”

            “Alright,” Jorge said.  He cleared his throat.  “Alright, boys, you heard him.  Start unloading.”

            Thomas turned and ignored the groan he heard from Josh and Bernard.  It’s not like he was trying to give them extra work.  It’d work out best in the long run.

 

            He crouched down next to the comforter between Jorge and Vince’s truck, resting his arms on his knees.

            Matt was awake now, breath coming in full.  His eyes were heavy lidded and his face still pale, but Thomas was just thankful he was alive.

            “How’re you doin’, Matt?”

            He received a deeper breath in response followed by a grunt.

            “Yeah, you and me both.”

            “Count me in,” Brenda laughed on the other side of him, shuffling her cards. 

            “Listen,” Thomas looked up at the group now.  “I need you guys to help out.  I’ve got Jorge, Josh and Bernard sorting through the supplies.  We don’t have enough room to bring everything with us.  We need the weapons and food collected from here, but that means we need to lose a couple items.”

            “Like that bed roll, for one,” Newt snorted.

            “Hey,” Fry spoke up.  “Leave my bed roll alone.  Just because I saw the potential in it-”

            There was a cough between them and everyone’s eyes shot down to Matt as he licked his lips, choked out a word and then tried again.  “Did you ever even use it?”

            “Oh, now you wanna talk?” Fry laughed down at him.

            “Couldn’t help myself,” Matt faintly smiled up at him.

            Thomas let out his own laugh and then stood.  “Alright, why don’t we let Matt rest and the rest of us start going through everything.”

            Newt pushed himself to stand, using Fry’s shoulder for support.  “I’m in.”

            “Maybe one of us should stay back with him?” Harriet squinted up at Thomas.

            He nodded down at her.  “You stay.  Keep an eye on him.  Everyone else with me.”

           

            Thomas and the others set about unloading the trucks.  Mostly, this meant they all hovered awkwardly around Jorge’s truck until there was absolutely nothing left to take out of it.

            “Thomas,” Jorge said, hopping down from the truck bed.  “Can I speak to you a moment?”

            Thomas exchanged a brief glance with Newt.  They both knew what was coming.  Even so, Thomas followed Jorge to the side.

            “I don’t mean to push, and I can do it alone if need be-”

            “No, Jorge,” Thomas shook his head. “I know.  Listen, if you could maybe try Vince’s truck?  Or maybe one of the guys?  Let me and Newt take care of Joe’s.”

            Jorge eyed him.

            “I’m serious.”

            “Okay, I trust you.  If it gets tough, you switch out with someone, you hear me?”

            “I know,” Thomas nodded.  He waited for Jorge to head off toward Vince’s truck.  “Alright,” he started, walking back to the others.  “You guys start going through this stuff.  Anything we can drop, throw in a pile over there.  Anything we need, keep separated into their categories over here.  Anything you’re not sure of, put it a pile off to the side there and I’ll go through it after.”

            “Good that,” Fry nodded as he took a seat next to one of the piles of clothing.

            “Newt,” Thomas said quieter, tapping his arm. He nodded off to the side and together they walked just out of earshot from the others.  “I wanted to give you the option before I asked the others for help.”

            “His truck,” Newt answered.

            Thomas nodded.

            Newt took a breath.  “Yeah, yeah I’ll help you.”

            “Newt, you don’t have to-”

            “No, Tommy. I’d like it I think. Might help in some weird way.”

            Thomas nodded again and waited for Newt to move first.  When he did, Thomas stopped them just a few feet from the truck.  “Uh, hang on.  I’m gonna grab a flashlight so we can see better.  You go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

            Newt’s only reaction was a quick flick of an eyebrow before he said okay and continued toward the truck. 

            Thomas jogged off toward the others.  He stopped when he was far enough and turned back.  He watched as Newt slowly reached a hand out to the truck, barely grazed the door handle before pulling his hand back again.  He slowly edged around the car, his eyes falling to the broken headlight, dented grill and more.  He disappeared behind the car and out of view from Thomas. 

            Thomas walked slowly back to the others and nodded at Bernard when he looked up at him.  “Can I get one of those flashlights?”

            Bernard silently handed one up.

            “Make sure Harriet looks at that,” Thomas looked pointedly at Bernard’s left ear where a gash cut through the skin beneath it. 

            “Yeah, I know.  It’s already been as cleaned out as it could get.”

            “Alright, good,” he turned to the others.  “Everyone doing okay over here?”

            “Mhm,” Brenda mumbled before pulling a dagger from between her teeth.  She looked up at Thomas and then glanced past him toward the truck.  “Giving him a minute?”

            Thomas nodded.

            Brenda went back to sorting through the weaponry.

            “Thomas,” Josh called from where he was kneeling over another pile.  “What do you wanna do with the water bottles? Is there a way to condense them, maybe?”

            “Yeah, fill up the canteens however much you can.  The rest,” Thomas looked at the surrounding piles.  “I don’t know, see if you can find a larger airtight container and just combine them.  The fewer containers, the better.”  He turned back toward the direction of Joe’s truck.  “I’m gonna get started over there.  You guys need anything just call over.”

            “Heard,” Josh responded, unscrewing the cap to a canteen.

 

            Thomas hesitantly stepped around the back of the truck to the passenger’s side.  He could just make out Newt’s reflection in the side mirror.  He walked up to the door and lightly tapped on it with the flashlight.

            Newt’s eyes opened and then the door did as well.  “Hey, Tommy.”

            “Hey,” he said, offering a small smile down.  He leaned his left arm on the frame of the car, ducking his head a bit to look in.  “You okay?”

            Newt turned in the seat to sit sideways and face Thomas.  He leaned his arms on his bent knees and took a deep breath, a long exhale.  “Yeah,” he nodded and looked up to Thomas.  “Yeah.”

            Thomas smiled down at him.

            “Got the flashlight then?”

            Thomas flipped it in his left hand and pointed it at Newt’s face.  He thumbed the switch on and then off again in answer.

            Newt threw a hand up to block the light.  “Shuck, Tommy.”  He flung his arm out and backhanded Thomas in the stomach and Thomas stumbled backward, doubling over a bit.

            He let Newt’s laugh work its way around them as they got started.  Thomas let Newt direct most of the cleaning.  He watched him be quick and direct, but Newt also had a gentleness to him in the way that he handled the box of radios Joe had been working on repairing, the elastic bands scattered throughout the trunk floor, an old flannel, a spare belt, a couple of spare tools and an old hat.

            Thomas watched as Newt removed box after box of supplies from the truck, carried them stoically to the others and returned for another box.  It was robotic, but Thomas let him work.  He couldn’t help much in carrying; his shoulder seemed to have blossomed a stronger pain now, but he busied himself in the backseat of the truck, cleaning out the sides of the truck doors and shining the flashlight beneath the seats for lost items.  He found an extra shirt, some old bandages he was skeptical about, a loose cable, a pair of scissors that might come in handy and, of course, more rubber bands.

            He paused then, balanced on one knee between the back and front seats, flashlight directed beneath the driver’s seat.  There was a small bundle here wrapped in a towel.  Thomas rested the flashlight on the floor of the truck aimed on the bundle as he reached forward to pull the pile closer.  There was a small piece of paper attached to it that Thomas recognized as the back of one of the old maps that had since been torn and tossed aside.  He turned the wrapped object until the folded paper was right side up.  There was one letter written on it in black slanted ink. _N._

            Thomas looked out of the open back door to where Newt was combining items into one box and lifting it, flinching slightly at the weight of it.  His face was still drawn into something different as he turned to walk the box over to the others.  Thomas tucked the small bundle into the inside of his jacket.  He would give this to him later when Newt had time to himself.

            They finished cleaning out the truck relatively quickly and they joined the others on the side sorting through piles.  Jorge returned from Vince’s truck after he’d helped him empty it out.  Vince, however, returned to the driver’s seat afterward and closed himself off from the group.

            “He just needs some time,” Jorge assured Thomas.

            Thomas dropped his focus back down to the trinkets he continued sifting through.  Most of what they’d collected seemed useless in retrospect.  Strings, broken rods, a metal tray.  Thomas continued to toss them into the _leave_ pile. 

            He paused on a watch with a brown rimmed face, white needled hands frozen in place with a single red one.  Thomas felt a small smile curl up at the memory of one of the scavenging trips.  He juggled this between piles before finally strapping it to his wrist.  He’d hold onto it for a bit longer to see if any of the others could get it working before he tossed it aside.  He continued to dig deeper into the box. 

            “Jorge!” He called, unearthing something round from the bottom.  “Jorge, come here!”  He listened as Jorge jogged over and then stood up to show him the item.  “Check it out.”

            Jorge took the item from him and held it out a bit from his eyes.  A metal needle spun a bit to the left and then angled itself fully right, hovering over an E engraved on the inside.

            Thomas looked up at Jorge.  “You think this could help?”  
  
            Jorge furrowed his brows at it, looking up in the direction the needle pointed.

            Thomas followed his gaze looking out past the trucks toward the Scorch.

            “I don’t know that that’s accurate,” Jorge looked back down at the compass.  “We should be…” his voice trailed off as he turned on the spot, facing the opposite direction toward the cliff.  The needle stayed pointed at the trucks and hovered over the letter S.

            “It’s broken?” Frypan asked from behind Thomas, a bit dejectedly.

            “Not necessarily,” Jorge offered, tapping the glass cover of it.  “The magnetic field may just be off.”

            “The what now?”

            “When the sun flares happened, they flipped the Earth’s North and South magnetic poles.  It’s not completely unknown, it’s happened before but not for hundreds of thousands of years.  It’s part of what caused the radiation on Earth. It’s a lot to do with the iron draining energy from the core of the Earth.”

            “That’s a lot of words I’m not grasping,” Frypan sighed.

            “It’s throwing off the magnetic field and now the compass won’t point North,” Thomas answered.

            Jorge nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.  Unless it is pointing North and it’s the whole planet that’s been thrown off its axis.”

            “So,” Frypan stepped up to look over Jorge’s shoulder at the compass.  “The directions are going to be opposite.  If we want to head North, we should be moving opposite of the needle.”

            “That would be it, _hermano_.”

            “Where’s Vince’s map?” Thomas patted his pockets down habitually while turning toward Vince’s truck.

            “It’s here,” Harriet pushed herself up from the ground next to Matt, pulling the map from her back pocket.

            Thomas stepped over a pile of trinkets to meet her in the middle.  “Okay so.  Jorge come here,” he waved him over.

            Jorge and Frypan walked over and the four of the hovered around the map as Jorge held the compass between them all. 

            Thomas turned the map so that the Northern hemisphere was parallel with the N on the compass.  The needle still pointed South.  “Alright, so we just have to read the compass backwards.  If we’re trying to go West here,” Thomas pointed at a small place on the map to the left of the Arka Cliffs. We would…” his voice trailed off as the four of them stared at the compass.

            “It’s easy,” Bernard said, joining the group.  “We just have to make sure the needle is on the S and then follow the actual letters to the direction we want to go, no?”

            The five of them fussed over the compass and map for a few minutes, turning the two this way and that.  Thomas only broke his focus once to flit his eyes up to Newt who continued rummaging through a box with Josh. 

            “No, it’s supposed to be turned this way, though,” Brenda said, spinning the compass in Jorge’s hand.

            “No but if it’s pointing South,” Harriet added, turning it again, “then we have to move in the opposite direction that we want to.”

            “It doesn’t matter what way the needle is pointing,” Bernard sighed for the third time. “I’m telling you we still have to follow the letters.”

            “Yeah but we have to make sure we’re facing the right way,” Harriet said, lightly smacking the back of Bernard’s head.

            “This shouldn’t be this confusing,” Thomas shook his head, pulling the map back from Frypan.  “If the Cliffs are here,” he turned on the spot so the cliffs were to his right a little behind him. “Then that means North is this way.” He pointed to the right. 

            “That makes no sense,” Jorge shook his head.  “Why would that suddenly be East when we’ve been moving North this whole time?”

            “Give me this,” Brenda pulled the compass from Jorge’s hand and faced South. “Where’s the map, make it face as if this was North.”

            “Why would we do that?” Frypan asked, spinning the map in her hand.  “The cliffs are this way.”

            “Yeah, but just pretend they’re over here for a second so I can explain.”

            “Why are we pretending they’re somewhere they’re not?” Bernard asked.

            “No, no,” Harriet held up a finger, leaning over the map.  “I think I’m following.”

            “See?” Brenda asked. “She gets it.”

            “I don’t,” Jorge tilted his head.

            “Listen if the cliffs are supposed to be North and the needle is saying this is Nort-”

            “Yes, but that _isn’t_ North,” Thomas insisted, spinning the map in her hands.

            “Thomas, just let me expla-”

            “No but it doesn’t mak-”

            “Let her _speak,_ Thomas.”

            “He’s right, though,” Bernard spun the map.  “What’s the point of this?”

            “Guys, maybe we should-”

            “Look, if you’ll just let me-”

            The words were suddenly cut off by a soft ripping as the map tore into three pieces between Thomas, Brenda and Bernard.

            The three of them looked up at each other.

            Harriet snorted. “Yeah, I’m not telling Vince.”

            “I’m out of this,” Frypan tossed his hands up.

            “I’m on the compass,” Jorge shook the compass in his hand for emphasis.

            “Just blame Newt and Josh.”

            Bernard and Thomas both shoved Brenda’s shoulders, knocking her back into Frypan.

            “Alright, alright, alright,” Jorge said, collecting the pieces of the map.  “I’ll tell him.”

            Thomas looked up at Jorge and met his eyes, skepticism in them.

            Jorge shrugged. “Later.  He doesn’t have to know right now.”

           

            By the time they’d sorted through the supplies, they were able to clear out two large piles of useless junk that was unnecessary, torn clothes, and open packets of food that had gone bad.  They stood back and looked at where it had been packed in Jorge’s truck, several backpacks lined up on the floor equipped with flashlights, a knife, pens and a packet of food for each of them to keep with them at all times.

            Thomas squinted up toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to sink behind the tops of the mountains. 

            “Maybe we should build a fire,” Josh suggested.

            “I don’t really think we should stay here much longer,” Thomas said as he turned back to him.  “I’m not sure I feel safe around this area at night.”

            The others shifting around him was enough of an answer. 

            “Should we get ready to head out, then?” Newt asked.

            “Where do we even go from here?” Brenda asked, folding her arms across herself.

            Thomas turned his head to look at Vince’s truck.  “Jorge, you still have the map pieces?”

            “Yes.”

            Thomas turned to him and held out a hand.  “You guys start figuring out seating arrangements.  Give me a bit.”

            The others nodded and slowly turned away.  Only Newt stayed, stepping up next to him.  “Do you want me to come?”

            Thomas bit his lip, considered it, then shook his head.  “No,” he turned to Newt.  “No, I think I should talk to him one on one.”

            Newt nodded as his hand lightly wrapped around Thomas’ wrist.  His fingers shifted and linked through Thomas’.   “Take as much time as he needs, I’ll keep the others out of the way.”

            “Thanks, Newt.”

            Newt responded with a small squeeze of their hands before he pulled away and walked back to the others.

            Thomas played with the torn pieces of the map in his hands and tried to steady himself.   He walked over to the truck, but instead of tapping on the driver’s side this time, he walked around it and tapped on the passenger’s side window.

            Vince continued looking ahead in the car, no sign of him having heard Thomas’ knock nor seen his approach.

            Thomas tapped on the window again.

            Vince closed his eyes and Thomas watched as his shoulders dropped a bit in defeat.  A moment later he opened them and reached across the truck and the door was pushed open just slightly. 

            Thomas took the invite and slid into the passenger’s seat, reaching across his body with his left arm to pull the door shut.  He’d have to sort something out with his shoulder eventually.

            They sat in silence for a few minutes.  Thomas didn’t want to push anything, didn’t want to rush.  He waited.

            Vince spoke first.  “How are they?”

            Thomas turned to him.  “They’re worried.”

            “Don’t give me that.  I didn’t ask how they feel about me, I asked how they are.”

            Thomas waited a beat before responding, rolled the answers over in his head.  He thought about Newt unloading Joe’s truck, Matt still laid out on the comforter, the others scrambling through supplies. “They’re managing.”

            Vince only nodded in response. 

            Thomas dropped his gaze and waited in the silence.

            “You know,” Vince started.  “Being here, seeing all this. It got me thinking about the Right Arm.”

            Thomas waited.

            “We’d spent over a year putting that base together.  Trying to make sure we had everything covered, done right.  We lost too many people even getting to that point.” Vince huffed a laugh.  “All for WCKD to come tear it down the day before we left.”

            Thomas swallowed, picked at a stray thread on his jeans.  He hadn’t heard Vince talk about the Right Arm before.   

            “And then I see this.  And I realize, Thomas,” Vince shook his head and looked at him now.  “We got lucky.”

            Thomas felt the flinch on his face.

            “We walked away.”  Vince sighed and let his head fall back to the headrest.  “I keep telling myself that even though WCKD has them, at least those kids are alive.  But I know it’s just false hope.”

            “They’re alive, Vince,” Thomas offered.

            “Yeah, Thomas.  They are. But at what cost?”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “I made a promise to Mary when we started the Right Arm.  I promised that I would keep those kids out of WCKD’s hands.”

            Thomas bit down on his words, bit down on wanting to remind Vince that he fought hard, he’d tried. 

            The silence was suddenly broken when Vince’s fist hit the dashboard.  “And I failed her.”

            Thomas turned to him. 

            “I made one promise to her and I broke it.”

            “Vince.”

            “No.” Vince let out an exasperated sigh through his nose.

            Thomas let the silence take over again.

            “She would have been proud of you,” Vince spoke up.

            Thomas looked at him.  “Me?”

            Vince nodded. “She always spoke highly of you, even if she didn’t use your name, didn’t know exactly who you were.”

            He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he continued to pull the thread of his jeans.  Finally, he spoke up.  “Was she… Were you and her…?”

            “No,” Vince chuckled.  “Maybe in another life.”  Vince’s eyes glassed over with some distant memory.  “There was just never any time.  There was so much going on, too much to take care of.  It just wasn’t a priority.”

            Thomas felt something twist in his gut, pull down at something in his chest.  He kept his eyes on the glove compartment.

            “Didn’t make losing her any easier.” Vince took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth.  “That’s where Joe came in.  Helped me through, kept me focused.  He stepped up when I needed someone to.”

            Thomas looked up at Vince.

            “And now I don’t even have him.”

             “I’m sorry.”

            “Sorry?” Vince looked at him with brows furrowed, as if Thomas had just suggested something absurd.  “What’re you sorry for?”

            “For bringing us here,” Thomas said to his knees.  “If I hadn’t insisted we come up here, he’d still be…”

            “Thomas, don’t do that.  Don’t turn this around.  You made a decision and we followed you.  That’s not on you.  I told you before you’re gonna have to make decisions.  Some of them will be bad, some of them will be worse.  You can’t let that weigh on you.  This isn’t your fault.  You didn’t know what would be waiting for us here.”

            Thomas let out a breath through his nose.

            “Speaking of making decisions, did you figure out a place to go next?”

            Thomas stilled.  His eyes slid to the left to where Vince was. “Not yet.  I keep thinking we should just stop everything.  Pack it up and head to the Safe Haven.”

            “That’s not an option.”

            “I know that,” Thomas nodded.  And he did know that.  He knew after everything they’d gone through, not one person would agree to abandon the mission, agree to leave the others to WCKD’s hands and move on.

            Vince reached over to the glove compartment and pulled it open.  Completely empty.  “Ah, shit, that’s right.” He pushed it closed.  “Harriet grabbed the map.  Wanna get it, we’ll take a look?”

            Thomas’ leg started bouncing.

            Vince sighed. “What happened now?”

            Thomas reached into his back pocket and slid out the torn pieces of the map.  He handed it over and, to his relief, Vince laughed.

            “I don’t know what I expect from you kids anymore.”

            “We didn’t mean to,” Thomas laughed. “We were trying to figure out which way is North.  We found this compass but it’s broken.”

            “Broken how?”

            “The needle points South.”

            “Oh well that’s simple,” Vince turned to him.  “You just let the compass direct you South and then put yourself at the head of the needle.  Then you’re facing North.  Move from there.”

            Thomas blinked. 

            “Oh, come on,” Vince shook his head.  “One of you had to know that.”

            “Of course,” Thomas shrugged, wincing at the throb in his shoulder.  “Obviously.”

            Vince snorted.  “Why don’t we wait until we can get the radios working?”

            Thomas shook his head. “I don’t want to stay in this area any longer than we need to.  I don’t feel safe staying here.”

            Vince nodded.

            “I can’t help thinking about the trees,” Thomas said, gaze on top of the cliff.  “They’re thriving, growing.  There’s life here.  I want to keep going deeper, see what we can find.”

            “You know, all these months surrounded by you kids and you all continue to surprise me,” Vince smiled.

            Thomas looked up at him.  “We’re all fighting with you, Vince.  I know we’re not her or him, but we’re here.”

            Vince clapped his hand on Thomas’ good shoulder.  “I know, Thomas.”  He dropped his arm and looked out from the truck at something in the distance.  Thomas watched a sad smile grow on his face before he continued.  “You know, I know I told you we didn’t have time.  Truth is we didn’t make time, we didn’t find it.  But it was there.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze.

            “If I could go back, I would find it.  I would use up every second I could.”

            Thomas kept his eyes on the floor of the truck, but could feel Vince’s on him now.  He swallowed.  “I’m sorry you didn’t have more time.”

            “Ah,” Vince leaned back in the seat.  “We had what we did.  That’s the important thing.”

           

 

            Thomas walked through the group.  “Everyone good to go?” He was answered with various nods and waves. “Alright, follow our truck. Get ready to head out.  We leave in ten.”  He turned to where Newt sat against the wheel of Jorge’s truck.  “Can we talk?”

            Newt looked up at him, nodded once and pushed himself up using the truck for leverage.

            Thomas lead him off to the side past the trucks.  When he was sure they were out of earshot of the others, he turned to Newt.  “I found something in Joe’s truck.”

            Newt’s eyes stayed trained on his, brows angled downward.

            Thomas reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small wrapped object.  He handed it over.

            Newt slowly took the package and turned it over in his hands.  “What is this?”

            “It was under the driver’s seat.”

            He watched as Newt tugged at the letter but Thomas reached out and stilled his hand. “Hang on.”

            Newt looked up at him again.

            “Look,” Thomas took a breath.  “Before you open that, I just want to let you know that I’m here.  And not just like some metaphorical thing.  But I’m here.”  He emphasized this with a small squeeze of Newt’s hand.  “I know that things are bad right now and they’re probably only going to get worse the closer we get to WCKD, the more time it takes to find Minho, but we’re both here, together.” Thomas shook his head slowly.  “I don’t wanna miss that. Okay?”

            Newt’s eyes flicked between Thomas’. 

            “Okay?” Thomas repeated.

            “Okay,” Newt said, barely above a whisper.  “Okay, I hear you.”  
  
            Thomas let out a small breath before he pulled Newt into his arms, wrapping them around him. We winced at the sharp slice of pain that shot through his shoulder to the tops of his ribs, but stayed there holding Newt.

            “Tommy, what’s wrong?”  Newt pushed him back a bit.

            “Nothing,” Thomas shook his head against Newt’s as they stepped back from each other a bit.  He slowly lowered his arms, straining the muscle in his right one.  “Just aches still.”

            “What happened to it?”

            Thomas flicked his eyes to Newt briefly.  He hadn’t realized Newt had missed it.  “The cliff,” he said, reaching over with his left hand and lightly prodding the muscle between his shoulder and his neck.  The pain throbbed.  “It pulled my shoulder.”

            “Pulled it?” Newt repeated.

            “Yeah, Harriet did something to put it back.  It’ll be fine, just needs some time to heal.”

            Newt looked skeptical.  “Thomas, don’t strain it.  She should make you a sling, keep it immobile.”

            “It’s fine, Newt.”

            “No, it’s not,” he snapped.

            Thomas rose a brow at him.

            “Sorry, I just…” Newt’s eyes dropped down and Thomas followed his gaze to his leg.  “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”  
  
            Thomas let the words settled inside of him.  “It’s gonna be fine.”

            When Newt responded, it was prefaced with a dejected sigh.  “I can’t believe I didn’t even realize.”

            “How would you have?”

            Newt looked up at him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            Thomas snorted. “What difference would it have made?  Besides,” Thomas smirked a bit.  “When were you gonna tell me about your hands?”

            “My hands?”

            “Your hands.” Thomas repeated, reaching out and turning Newt’s right hand over.  It was peppered with open blisters and small faded burns. 

            “It’s fine, just a small burn from the stupid blowtorch.  I’ll cover them up next time.”

            “Let’s just hope there won’t be a next time.”

            Newt shook his head.  “It was healing fine until… everything.”

            Thomas swallowed.  He could distantly recall Newt’s hands wrapped around weapons, around stones, branches.  Anything to defend himself from the Cranks.  He watched as Newt’s eyes glossed over, his whole body started to close up.  Thomas turned Newt’s hand over, ran his thumb over the scarred knuckles.  The blood had been wiped away, but the cuts remained.  He pushed his thoughts out of his head and let his body move, lifting Newt’s hand up to press a small kiss to his knuckles.  “Wear gloves next time.”

            Newt raised a brow at him as Thomas dropped his hand.  “I’ll wear gloves and you avoid cliffs, deal?”

            Thomas let out a small laugh.  “Deal.”  He dropped his eyes to the small package in Newt’s other hand.  “I’ll let you open that.  Meet you in the truck?”

            Newt looked at the small package, fingered the note, but didn’t quite open it.  “Not sure I’m actually ready to open it quite yet,” he said on a small laugh.

            Thomas reached out with his left arm and snaked it around the fluffy collar of the jacket.  “You open it when you’re ready.  And when you are, I’m here, okay?”

            “Yeah, Tommy.  I know.”

            “Good.” 

            Newt tore his eyes away from the package and looked forward toward the trucks. “Let’s get out of here.”

            Thomas kept his eyes on Newt’s face, watched the stoic façade take over once again.  Something unraveled inside of him. He pulled Newt closer to him and when Newt turned to face him, Thomas caught his mouth with his own.  It was small, brief, but when Thomas pulled away he saw that it was just enough to drop the mask on Newt’s face.

            Newt rose his brows now, his eyes somehow brighter in the night’s shadows than they were before.  “What was that for?”

            Thomas grinned at him.  “Because I’m taking shotgun.”  He punctuated this with a small pat on Newt’s back before he walked off and lead the way to the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here are some quick notes before I run off!
> 
> 1\. Thomas is clearly still struggling with shoulder pain. He should probably get this checked out before it gets bad.
> 
> 2\. Newt's gift - don't worry, we'll find out what it is eventually.
> 
> 3\. The Compass - Did a lot of research on radiation and the Earth's axis and wow this is a real thing that happens like every 200,000 years or so. Except it's overdue by like 780,000 years? So, that's some fun knowledge. Anyway, worked it a bit to fit the bizarre science of the TMR series. Have some radiation info. Messes with magnetic pulls, etc. It's actually pretty fascinating to read up on if you're interested in that sort of thing.
> 
> 4\. The Right Arm and Mary. Here's a very brief look into Vince's story. There's a whole background here that may be revealed, but if not, I may end up just writing it as a one-shot. We'll see if it fits in.
> 
> 5\. Have some Newtmas kisses.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much as usual for the wonderful comments. You all seriously keep me writing and I cannot thank you enough for the support this story has gotten. You're all amazing <3


	22. On Adapting and Autotrophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas is Smarter Than People Give Him Credit For

 

 

            The truck rumbled along the graveled dirt paths of the cliffs.  Thomas ignored the way his shoulder vibrated against the vinyl seat behind him.  He focused instead on the trees.  There was a subtle shift in the colors and he couldn’t remember when exactly it had happened.  The browns and grays had shifted to pale yellows and melted into light greens.  They were surrounded by green and something in Thomas pained at the memory of the Glade.  He’d only spent a handful of days there, but the nostalgia took over anyway. 

            There was something comforting about his earliest memories.  He knew he’d lived before that, lived however many years out in the world - in _this_ world - but as far as he was concerned, none of that existed anymore.  What he had was the Scorch and the Glade, and he was struck with a sudden hurt at the memory.  The soft grass beneath his hands as he helped tend the gardens, the easy sway of the hammocks tied to the trees, the burning smell of the campfire.  Thomas even missed the kitchens and the lopsided building that was their homestead.  Mostly, he missed the lookout tree.  He missed being able to look out across the Glade, watch the community work as a well-oiled machine.  In another life, he thinks he could have enjoyed it, despite the circumstances.  In another life, he might have been part of that community.

            He dropped his gaze to the side mirror of the truck, could just make out the reflection of Newt in the backseat, eyes also on the trees.  He wondered if he’d been thinking the same, if he’d been remembering.  Thomas wondered what it was he remembered.  He made a note to ask him one day.  He was struck with a sudden want to hear his stories, to hear all of their stories.

            The truck veered to the left then and Thomas shot his arm out to grab the door, wincing at the pull in his muscles.  His neck strained as he sucked in a breath through his teeth.  When the car steadied itself again he used his left arm to bring his right back to its resting place in his lap.  He’d have to tone down his instincts, keep himself from reaching out so quickly.

            “You okay?” Fry asked, eyes still on the road.  “Sorry, man.  That turn was sharper than I thought.”

            Thomas sighed.  “Yeah, man.  No worries.  It’s just my stupid shoulder.”

            “You should let Harriet look at it.  She was able to patch me up pretty good.”  Frypan gently pat the side of his ribs.  He still had a few bruises on his arms and there was one on the side of his forehead as well, but still he remained cheerful. 

            “I’d rather she focused on Matt,” Thomas said, shifting to bend his leg and lean it against the door.

             “Tommy,” Newt spoke up from the back. “You’re worth a lot more to us if you’ve got a working shoulder.  Let her look at it.”

            Thomas looked back into the side mirror to catch Newt’s eye.  “You gonna have her look at your hands, too?”

            Newt gave him a look that clearly meant to cut the shit.

            Thomas let out a small laugh and looked ahead into the darkening path. 

            “You know,” Frypan sighed, running a hand through his steadily growing hair.  “We might have to stop soon.  It’s one thing to drive in the dark with one headlight but to lead the group with it?”

            Thomas looked down into the single line of light leading their way.  “Just try to get a little further.”

            “Yeah, boss.”

            Thomas eyed him sideways as he pulled the torn map from his coat pocket along with the compass. He balanced the latter on his bent knee while he tried to spread the other pieces in his lap and place them together correctly. 

            “We’re still moving East I think,” Frypan offered.

            “According to this it’s nor- Southeast.”

            “Does it matter?” Newt asked quietly from the backseat.

            The three fell into a silence.  Thomas slowly piled and folded the pieces of the map together and placed the compass on top.  It didn’t matter, not right now.  They had no idea where to go, anyway.

 

            When Frypan decided he couldn’t drive with the lack of two working headlights anymore, they stopped the trucks in the middle of the road surrounded by trees on either side.  It didn’t matter where they stopped.  There were no other trucks coming through that they’d be blocking.

            Thomas slowly lifted his arm to the truck handle, but the door was pulled away from him as Newt opened it from the outside.  Thomas scoffed.  “What? You can open the door for me, but I can’t open it for you?”

            “I’m only opening it because you won’t get your stupid arm checked out.  Don’t get used to it.  Come on,” he nodded pointedly toward Vince’s truck.  “We’re going to Harriet.”

            Thomas shook his head with a soft laugh and slid out of the truck.   “You gonna walk me over there, too?”

            “If you need me to,” Newt smirked.

            Thomas laughed as he walked alongside him, but something in the back of his mind knew that though they were making light of the situation, Newt had been serious.  He’d help carry him over if he needed it.  And Thomas knew he’d do the same in a heartbeat.

            “Harri,” Newt called over as she hopped out of Vince’s truck.  “You think you can make a sling for Thomas?”

            She furrowed her brows and looked at Thomas’ arm where it dangled at his side.  “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.  We’ve got enough sheets.  Let me grab an extra, wait here.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes.  “You know we could be using those for more important things, right?”

            “Tommy, shut up and wear the bloody sling.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze to the ground and ran his tongue along his lips, but didn’t say anything.  He knew Newt was only trying to help.

            “I’m gonna help Fry set up the tents.  Meet you back in a bit.”

            “Mm,” Thomas nodded as he leaned against Vince’s truck.  He flinched just slightly at the brush of lips against his cheek but when he looked up Newt was already turned away and walking back toward Frypan and the others.  Something flipped inside of Thomas’ chest and he felt a hint of a smile curl up on his face.  He could get used to this.

            “Hey, loverboy, over here.”

            He supposed he could also get used to Harriet’s teasing.  A small price to pay.

            He pushed off the truck and walked over to the back where she leaned over the open trunk.

            “Stand straight, I need to measure you.”

            Thomas lifted himself and winced slightly as he tried to pull his shoulders back. 

            Harriet grabbed his wrist, fingers cold against his skin.  She softly pulled his arm out from his body and he grit his teeth against the pain lancing through his back.  He inhaled sharply through his nose.

            “Hurts?”

            “Feels great,” he forced out.

            She furrowed her brows and lowered his arm back in place.  “Take your coat off.”

            Thomas sighed, but followed her directions.  He shrugged his left sleeve off easily enough, but had to slowly slide the right sleeve off and eventually let it slide on its own down his arm and to the floor.  His eyes snagged on the shape of his shoulder beneath the sleeve.

            “Yep,” Harriet said decisively. “That’s not right.”

            Thomas looked back up at her.

            She sighed, crossing her arms. “Wanna explain to me what you’ve been doing since I popped it back in place for you?”

            Thomas shrugged, winced.

            “Okay, step one. Stop doing that.”

            “The camp,” Thomas gritted out.  “And the pyre.”

            Harriet pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes as she spoke, clearly frustrated.  “You used that arm to throw the torch, didn’t you?”

            Thomas blinked.

            “Didn’t occur to you to use the other?”

            “I’m not good with that hand.  What if I threw it somewhere else? I could’ve hit someone.”

            “Right, and throwing it with an injured arm would certainly keep your aim straight,” she rolled her eyes.

            “Can you not scold me?  Just make the sling so I can help them.”

            “Help them put up tents?” she asked, eyes widening.  “Oh right, that’s a great idea.  You wanna shoot a round from my gun while you’re at it? Maybe climb a tree? Throw a couple punches?”

            “Keep it up and I might,” Thomas teased.

            “You’re lucky you’re so pathetically injured,” she glared at him, but her smile betrayed her.  She leaned down and fussed with a spare sheet and scissors. “So, you and Newt, huh?”

            “Nope, not having that conversation.”

            She smirked at him as she placed a thin strip of cloth around his neck and let it hang halfway down his torso.  “Fine, we don’t have to talk.”

            “You can talk,” Thomas offered. 

            The smirk dropped from her face and Harriet’s eyes turned a shade darker.  “I’m good.”

            Thomas watched her as she worked, all focus.  “How did you learn all of this?”

            Her brows furrowed as she held up a square of cloth.  “Didn’t I tell you?”

            Thomas shook his head.

             “It started about a week before Aris got into our Spring actually.  Sonya was usually the one who was good with scrapes and bruises.  She was always the motherly one, taking care of all of us.  But there was one day when her blades hit a crack in the ice.”  Harriet swallowed.  “She went down – hard.  Her face got bruised up, her wrist was sprained, but the worst part was on her back.  When her skate hit the crack, some shards broke off from the ice and they sliced into her back.  She tried fixing herself up but she couldn’t do much with the sprained wrist, let alone the fact that she couldn’t reach or see her back.  Our other Bone Shafter was put out of commission after…”  Harriet’s eyes dropped. “Well, anyway.  I asked her to walk me through it.”

            Thomas rose his brows.  “Stitches?”

            Harriet nodded.  “Tuck your arm in here,” she instructed, sliding the square of sheet beneath his arm.

            Thomas sucked in another breath at the sharp pain bursting at the movement.

            Harriet eyed his shoulder again before she tugged at the neckline of Thomas’ shirt.  “Hell, Thomas!” She groaned. “Your whole shoulder is _out_ again.” She tossed the cloth behind her.

            “What?”

            “It’s out.  You must’ve pushed it back out of place when you threw the torch.  I knew it looked bad through the shirt.”  She turned and grabbed the scissors and, before Thomas could object, she was snipping at the seam of the sleeve. 

            Thomas felt it slide down to his wrist, the material like fire against his stinging skin. 

            “This is gonna hurt,” she warned.

            “Any advice?”

            “Think of something that hurts worse.”

            “Easy enough,” Thomas exhaled, his mind flipping through a myriad of options.  Before he could even decide on one, pain exploded in his shoulder.  It blossomed down his back, his chest, hitting the side of his ribs.  It was warm, as if something was set on fire within him, caused from the sliding friction that he bit down against and fought to ignore.  He blinked the spots from his vision, tried to focus on the scar on Harriet’s right hand. 

            “You good?” She asked.

            He waited for the blood to stop rushing around his head, fought against his stomach pushing back on itself, its contents threatening to spill out.  When he was sure he could open his mouth safely, he inhaled deeply and let out a shaking exhale.  He waited for his shoulder to stop burning before he responded. He nodded, breathing through his nose.

            “You sure?”

            He exhaled again.  “I need to sit down.”

            “Yeah, come here.” Harriet linked an arm around his waist, her other still holding his arm against his side.

            Thomas let her turn him gently and sit him on the edge of the trunk.  He steadied himself as his breathing began to regulate itself.

            “Thomas, I’m gonna move your arm a bit, okay?”

            Thomas nodded.  He bit down on the pull of his muscle as she bent his arm at the elbow and pressed it close to his body.  He let her take his left hand and place it against where her hand held his arm in place.

            “Can you hold your arm there?  Don’t let it drop, keep the weight off your shoulder.”

            Thomas swallowed down the bile again, using his hand to prop up his arm.

            “Okay, stay like that.” Harriet shifted to the side and fussed with the torn sheet.  She grabbed the scissors and stripped off another short, thin piece of fabric.

            “Harriet,” Thomas grit out between his teeth.  Something fogged around his vision and he blinked it back.

            “Okay, okay, okay,” she muttered over and over as she shifted back to him.  “Pull your arm out a bit.”

            Thomas shifted his eyes up to her.

            “Right,” she nodded.  “Okay. Thomas, do you remember all those weeks ago?  When we were around the campfire and I talked about Aris getting punched in the face?”

            Thomas nodded, heaving breaths through his nose.  He tried to keep his focus on her.

            “Well, what I didn’t mention is a week later, when he asked for advice on throwing a punch.  Have you ever seen him throw a punch?”

            Thomas tried to think back to his limited memories of the boy.  He shook his head.

            “Well, it’s better now.  But it was terrible there.  You think you flail _your_ arms.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Okay, I really don’t flail that ofte-”  Thomas winced suddenly as he felt his shoulder take on a bit more weight.  He looked down to see his arm resting in the folded sheet.

            Harriet tugged at the strip of cloth that was still wrapped around his neck and looped it in through a hole in the sheet, did the same with the other end, and after a few more pulses of dull pain, she stepped back from him.  “How’s it feel?”

            Thomas looked back down at the makeshift sling that now housed his arm.  “Feels like I’m not gonna be much use for a while.”

            Harriet snorted and tossed a scrap of the torn sheet to the side.  “You’ll thank me when you can at least use it in the future.”

            Thomas offered a small smile.  “Thank you.”

            “Mhm,” Harriet nodded.  “Sleep with the sling on.  Keep your arm as close to your body as you can.”

            “So, I get the stitches, but how’d you learn this?” he nodded down to the sling.

            Harriet scratched at her face, ran a finger along the cut on her lip.  “Told you,” she finally said, dropping her hand. “She had a sprained wrist.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze to a scar along his forearm, bright pink against the dirt that coated his tanned sin.  “Sonya.”

            Harriet didn’t respond.

            “You two wer-“

            “Are.” She looked up, eyes sharp.

            Thomas nodded.  “Of course.

            “Anyway,” Harriet cleared her throat.  “For the next few days, I want you keeping away from any heavy lifting or strain.  The most I want you doing is small hand movements.  You can turn your wrist, flex your fingers.  It’s best if, every once in a while, you make a fist.  It’ll keep the blood flowing through your arm and keep the muscle from being stagnant for too long.”

            Thomas nodded. “Sure thing, doc.”

            Harriet responded with a practiced roll of her eyes.

            “Am I dismissed?” Thomas laughed.

            “Please.”

            When Thomas turned back to join the others, he saw zero tents up.  He caught Newt’s eye and rose a brow in question.

            “Check out the one-armed bandit,” Fry laughed.

            Thomas dropped his gaze to Frypan as he walked past him.  “Really?”

            “Thomas,” Jorge walked over.  “Hope it’s alright.  We decided against the tents.  We talked about it and,” he dropped his voice lower, “most of us are uncomfortable with sleeping out here in the night.  Still shaken up.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Sure, makes sense.  What’s the plan then, you wanna keep moving?”  
  
            “No, no. We definitely need sleep.”

            Thomas couldn’t help the relief.  He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion catching up with him or the pain in his shoulder just making his focus skewed, but all Thomas wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

            “We just think we should stay locked in the trucks for now until we’re sure the area is safe.”

            Thomas nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

            Jorge lifted a hand, looked like he was going to clasp Thomas on the shoulder, thought better of it, and dropped it. 

            Thomas walked over to where Newt opened the passenger door to Joe’s truck.

            “Nice shirt,” Newt smirked.

            Thomas looked down at it.  “What?”

            Newt tilted his head, looked like he was about to say something, then seemed to have thought better about it. “Your chariot,” Newt gestured.

            Thomas snorted and slid into the seat.  A minute later he heard the door behind him open and shut as Newt slid into the backseat.

            “Are we supposed to keep the truck running or off?” Fry asked as he settled into the driver’s seat.

            “I think it’s safer off.  The running engine could be too loud. It could attract…”  Thomas let his words trail off, not having to finish the sentence.

            “Off, it is.” Fry sighed.  He pulled the collar of his jacket up and sunk into the seat.  “Wake me up when we’ve gotta move.”

            Thomas turned back to where Newt was stretching across the back bench.  He turned to the front and shifted his body to angle his back between the seat and the door, but the door pressed on the back of his shoulder this way and he had to bite down on a gasp.  He shifted to sit normally against the seat and tried to sink low in it like Frypan was, but again had to shift to avoid the pressure.  He pulled one of his legs up on the seat and turned completely sideways, leaning on his left shoulder, facing Frypan.  He bent his leg to pull it up a bit more comfortably, but subsequently banged it on the gear shift.  He heard a small laugh from the backseat.  Thomas turned his head to look in the back to see Newt lying across the bench with eyes closed, smirk on his face.

            Newt suddenly stretched his arms up and let them fall back down, then stretched his back.  He let out a sigh, far too exaggerated.  “Boy, it sure does feel great to have all this room back here.”

            Thomas lowered a brow at him.

            “Newt,” Frypan warned.  “Please don’t.”

            “What?” Newt opened one eye.  “I’m not doing anything. Just making sure I’m nice and comfortable for sleep.”

            “You know what,” Fry said, sitting up.  “I’m gonna go check on Matt. Make sure they got him situated.  I’ll be back in ten.”  He said this last part with a bit of emphasis, which Thomas decidedly ignored.

            The driver’s side door closed and Frypan walked over to join the others where they were slowly drifting into their own spots in the other trucks. Thomas watched him through the back windshield until he couldn’t see him clearly anymore and then turned to sit forward in the seat again.  He shifted his back against the seat, angled his arm in front of his body and settled against the seat.  It was better, though not by much. The strap of the makeshift sling dug into his neck.

            Thomas shifted again, tried to bend his leg and prop it up on the seat to lean his arm on it so the strap wouldn’t dig, but it only agitated the muscles stretching around to his back. Besides, the second time his leg slipped off the seat and his arm slammed down to his ribs he nearly yelped.

            “Shouldn’t have jumped to shotgun so quickly,” Newt’s voice trilled from the backseat. “You could’ve been all stretched out in-”

            Thomas didn’t hear the rest of the sentence in favor of kicking the door open and sliding out of the seat.  He walked around the front of the car and yanked the backdoor open.  In a swift movement, he lunged forward and threw his left arm out to catch Newt where he fell backward from where he’d been leaning on the door. Thomas smirked down at him.  “One day we’ll get the hang of that.”

            Newt laughed while using the handle on the roof of the car to pull himself back up and into the car.

            Thomas gave his arm a light tap. “Come on, move over.  Let me in.”

            Newt slid down to the other side of the backseat and Thomas took the newly freed seat and pulled the door shut next to him. He shifted down to the middle of the bench and leaned himself down so he was lying on his left side.  He tucked his arm close to his body and waited. 

            This was…comfortable. Doable.  Though his waist was twisted awkwardly where his legs were still hanging off the bench to the floor. 

            He heard Newt snort in laughter.

            “What?” Thomas said, more than asked.

            “You’re gonna pull a muscle like that.”

            “Good, maybe Harriet can sling up my whole body.”

            Newt laughed across the bench.  “Put your stupid legs up.”  
            Thomas lifted his head to look down the bench at him. “What, and put them on you?”

            Newt shrugged, “I don’t mind.  I once slept with Minho using my back as a pillow.”

            Thomas felt an odd sting in his chest, but ignored it.  He wasn’t going to feel jealous of a past memory with Minho.  That was ridiculous. He shoved the comment to the back of his mind.  “And you’re just gonna sit up all night?”

            Newt shrugged.

            Thomas let out an exasperated breath.  “You can lay down, Newt.  There’s enough room.”  He shifted his body closer to the edge of the bench to accentuate the point.  This absolutely had nothing to do with the thought of someone else using Newt as a pillow.  He watched Newt’s eyes shift around the truck suddenly, along the bench and out the back window.  Something stirred in Newt’s expression.  He looked… _nervous._

            “I’m,” Newt cleared his throat. “I’m good.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow down at him.  “You’re suddenly gonna sleep sitting up after all that fuss about how you had the whole backseat and how comfortable it was.”

            “I’m good, Tommy.”

            Thomas pushed himself up onto his good arm and then pulled himself up to sit.  “What’s going on with you?”

            “Nothing, I’m good.”

            “Yeah, you keep saying that,” Thomas laughed.  “But you look tense as shit.”

            Newt’s eyes slid to Thomas and back to the seat in front of him.

            Thomas was suddenly incredibly aware of how close they were in the backseat.

            “I just… if Frypan’s over by Matt still I want to make sure one of us is awake in case something happens.  I’ll be lookout.”

            Thomas blinked.  Something in the air had changed around Newt and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder if he crossed some sort of line by implying Newt share the bench with him.  But then, they’d slept next to each other countless times.  “Newt, what’s going on?”

            Newt eyed the bench again.

            Thomas wondered if perhaps Newt was worried about the tight space they’d have to share.  He sighed.  “Look, I didn’t mean to push you out of your seat,” Thomas laughed, scratching the back of his neck.  “I can go back up-”

            “Tommy, lie down.”

            Thomas turned to look at Newt and met his eyes.

            “I’m serious,” Newt nodded.  “You’ve got this shoulder thing going on and it’s probably the only way you’re going to be able to sleep.”

            “And you?”

            “I’ll manage.”

            Thomas felt something buzzing inside of him as his heart rate picked up.  _No, it’s a stupid idea. Don’t do it. Don’t do-_

“Come here,” Thomas reached across his body to tug on Newt’s jacket, pulling his upper body toward him. He let go and turned, lying sideways on the edge of the bench, heart hammering as he waited to see how Newt would respond.

            But, of course he did, because that’s who Newt was, and Thomas allowed an extra flutter of a heartbeat in his chest when he felt Newt settle onto the bench behind him, chest pressed against his back.

            Then, of course, it was an issue of balance.

            Thomas pulled himself up further on the bench while Newt continued to shuffle behind him, trying to angle his legs.  Thomas left his off the bench, letting Newt bend his on it.

            “Maybe I should open the door?” Newt whispered.

            “Are your legs hitting it?”

            “This backseat really isn’t that long, Tommy,” he laughed.

            Thomas swallowed as Newt’s breath danced across the back of his neck.  “Do what you need to.”  He felt Newt continue to shift a bit more behind him. 

            “It should be fine,” he mumbled.  “Just need to- sorry!” he yelped as his head banged into Thomas’

            Thomas laughed.  “Do you have room? I can try and…” Thomas scooted a bit further out from the bench, teetering on the edge of it.

            Newt’s arm was around Thomas’ waist pulling him back in an instant.  “You’re gonna fall off and Harriet will literally kill me if you dislocate your shoulder a third time.”

            Thomas’ nerves buzzed beneath the touch as Newt continued to mumble and sort himself out.

            “This was so much easier in the dream,” he said into Thomas’ scapula. 

            Thomas angled his head at that, finally interrupting Newt’s string of muttering.  “Dream?”

            All movement stopped.

            “What?”

            “You said something about a dream?”

            “I did?”

            Thomas laughed and braced his left arm on the back of the driver’s seat as he pushed himself around and turned onto his back.  He turned his head to face Newt.  “Yes.” 

            Newt furrowed his brows at him from where he was stuffed between Thomas and the back of the bench.  “I don’t think I did.”

            Thomas was again made very aware of how close they were, how they pressed against each other.  He was also very aware that Frypan still hadn’t returned.  “I think you did.”

            Something taut stretched in the small space between them.  Thomas watched Newt’s eyes flicker down from Thomas’ eyes and back up.  Their breath mixed between them.  Thomas’ heart pounded deep inside him, he could practically feel it hitting the seat through his back.  He watched the shift of Newt’s throat as he swallowed.  Finally, Thomas whispered the words out.  “You don’t have to ask.”

            Something tensed in Newt’s eyes and a breath later, he was propping himself up on an elbow, looking down at Thomas.  “You’re sure?”

            Thomas wanted to laugh, wanted to at least smirk, but he only seemed to have control over one thing at a time in this moment, and right now it was his words.  “That’s still asking.”

            A silent laugh danced in Newt’s eyes before he leaned down and closed the small gap between them. 

 

            Thomas could get used to this.  He could get used to the warmth and gentleness of Newt around him.  He could get used to the faint mint and whatever else it was that was so distinctly _Newt_. He could get used to reaching a hand up to the back of Newt’s head, to threading his fingers in the short locks of hair.  He could get used to the lopsided smile that curled up against his own mouth, eyelashes brushing against his, noses knocking into each other clumsily.  Yes, Thomas could easily get used to this.

            He could even get used to Newt pulling away if it meant he’d keep coming back.

            “We should sleep,” Newt whispered, eyes locked on Thomas’ smile.

            “Mhm,” Thomas nodded and lifted his head to connect them again.  He agreed.  They should sleep.  They definitely should.

 

.

 

            “Tommy,” Newt laughed into his mouth.

            “What?”

            “We need to sleep.”

            “I know,” Thomas nodded again, head back on the seat below him. 

            “You keep saying that,” Newt rose a brow at him.  He pulled Thomas’ hand from its place at the neckline of Newt’s shirt.  He turned his wrist and looked at the watch.  “Yet, it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

            “The watch doesn’t even work,” Thomas laughed.

            “There are other ways to tell time,” Newt said, pressing his thumb against the pulse in Thomas’ wrist.

            Thomas swallowed.  “Alright,” he nodded. “We can sleep.”

            “Okay,” Newt nodded down at him.

            “Okay.”

            “Good that.”

 

.

 

 

            Several heartbeats and pulses later, Newt pulled back from Thomas’ mouth slid into the small gap of space between him and the back of the seat.  “Frypan must’ve gotten lost.”

            Thomas gave in to a small laugh.  “Sure.”

            Newt smiled at him. 

            Thomas let himself lie there for a bit, watching Newt’s smile, reveling in the way his arm was curled across Thomas’ stomach and tucked around him.  “Goodnight Newt.”

            “Is your shoulder okay?”

            Thomas laughed through his nose.  “Honestly, I forgot about it for a bit there.”

            Newt’s mouth twitched up in a smile.  “The minute it starts to hurt or you get uncomfortable tell me, yeah?”

            “Sure, Newt.”

            “I mean it, Tommy.”

            Thomas turned over onto his left side again and tucked one arm beneath his head while keeping the slinged arm close to his chest.  “I know.”

 

 

            Thomas woke up to the reminder of the previous night.  _Okay, so that wasn’t a dream._   He looked down to Newt’s arm tucked tightly around him, keeping him from tumbling off the edge of the seat.  He could feel Newt’s face pressed into the back of his neck, breath coming warm and steady on his skin. 

            Sure, his shoulder ached.  God, it ached.  His muscle strained and there were pins and needles skittering up and down his entire arm.  But still, he lay there. 

            When he couldn’t take the ache anymore, he finally slid his arm from under his head and tapped Newt’s.  “Newt, hey,” he whispered.  “Wake up.”

            He heard a muffled grunt from behind him.

            “Newt,” he laughed.  “Come on, we’ve gotta get up.”

            He felt Newt’s head move against him, hair tickling the back of his neck.  He groaned.  “How’s your shoulder?”

            Thomas bit down on his laughter.  Of course that’s the first thing Newt was concerned with.  “It’s fine, but we have to get moving.”

             Newt groaned again.  “I know.”

            Thomas was suddenly struck with Vince’s words in his head. _Maybe in another life._   He scooted himself around to lie on his back again, bit down on the wince from the pain in moving his shoulder after so long.

            “That doesn’t seem fine.”  Newt’s voice was suddenly clear, hard.

            Thomas turned to look at him and saw he was fully awake now, brows furrowed and gaze set on Thomas’ shoulder.

            Thomas didn’t bother defending the point.  He reached over and tugged at the neckline of Newt’s shirt, dragging him closer. 

            “You taste like morning,” Newt murmured into his mouth.

            Thomas laughed into his kiss.  “Sorry, I take it back, then.”

            “No, no,” Newt shook his head.  “I like mornings.”

            Thomas opened his eyes and shifted his gaze between Newt’s.  He could just make out the sunlight creeping through the branches of the trees outside of the back windshield.  The short bits of hair that stuck up from Newt’s head nearly glowed in it and Thomas couldn’t help but agree: he liked mornings, too.

            “Come on,” Newt pulled himself up from the bench and Thomas was suddenly very aware of the empty space next to him.  “Let’s go. Up.”

            It was Thomas’ turn to groan now as he pushed himself up to sit.  His waist burned at the relief in the previously stretched muscles.  Spending hours on his side with his legs still bent off the seat down to the floor was definitely up there on the list of his worst ideas.  It didn’t help that his ribs already pulsed in pain from his shoulder.  In fact, the entire right side of his body was still buzzing with pain.  He ran a hand down his face.

            “Alright?” Newt laughed.

            Thomas felt Newt’s hand lightly graze his back.  “Yeah,” Thomas nodded.  “Just can’t wait to be able to use my arm again.”  
  
            “The less you strain it now the faster you’ll be able to use it.”

            Thomas turned to Newt.  “Thanks, Newt.  Spent plenty of time with Jeff and Clint yeah?”

            Something dark flashed in Newt’s eyes and Thomas immediately cursed himself for bringing them up.  Of course he spent time with them back in the Glade.  They were friends.  Bringing up all those good memories probably only hurt Newt more knowing they were gone now.

            “Let’s go see what’s for breakfast, yeah?”  Newt opened the door and slid out of the seat.

           

 

            “Morning,” Frypan greeted them.

            “Where’d you go last night?” Thomas asked.

            “Pay up,” Brenda elbowed Bernard.

            Thomas didn’t bother asking.

            “I told you,” Frypan laughed.  “Went to check on Matt.”

            “What’s for breakfast?” Newt sniffed at the small campfire they had set up, a stone basin balanced above the flames. 

            “Jorge was trying to make… I don’t actually know,” Harriet furrowed her brows at it before turning back to Thomas.  “How’s your shoulder? How did you sleep?”

            “On his side,” Newt answered.  “He’s fine, but you should check the back of his neck where the sling is strapped.  It’s rubbing his skin raw.”

            Harriet nodded and gently spun Thomas, lifting the cloth from his neck. She whistled lightly behind him.  “Yeah, I’ll have to figure out something better here for you.”

            “You could take the sling off,” Thomas suggested.

            “And let you pop it back out a third time?” She asked as she stepped back in front of him, brow raised.

            “Tommy, leave the medical stuff to people who know what they’re doing.  You just stick to the leadership side of things.”

            Thomas snorted.  “Yeah, cuz I’m so good at that.”

            “Hey, hey, hey,” Brenda said shoving a cup of something warm into Thomas’ hand.  “None of that self-deprecation shit.”

            “What is this?” Thomas asked, sniffing at the drink in his hands. It smelled faintly of spice and clover.

            “Jorge tried his hand at tea,” she shrugged.  “It’s actually pretty good.  That camp had a lot of leaves stocked up that he was able to mess around with.”

            “Tea leaves?” Harriet asked.  She met Thomas’ eyes and something clicked in his brain.

            “The trees,” Thomas nodded.  “All this grass? It’s living.”

            “Did the radiation not take effect up here?” Brenda asked, brow furrowed.

            “I think it did,” Harriet answered.  “But it’s probably been so stagnant that the world started to adapt.”

            “Like people,” Thomas finished.  “Like us.”

            Harriet nodded, eyes lighting up.  “Thomas, how would you feel about getting a small group together to venture out?”

            Thomas looked past her toward the wall of trees.  “There’s no path for the trucks, we’d have to go on foot.”

            “Do you wanna try?” She asked.

            Thomas couldn’t deny the scratching in his head, the pull of the woods.  Yes, yes, he wanted to try.

 

***  
  
            “Leave it.”

            Thomas looked up to where Bernard eyed Josh, arms folded across his chest.

            “I’m not gonna play with it.”

            “Josh, leave it.”

            Josh rolled his eyes and tossed the small lighter onto the sheet that’d been laid out with supplies. He mumbled something in Spanish.

            “It was not one time,” Bernard responded. “It was twice.  Don’t think I forgot about the apple tree.”

            “Everything okay here?” Thomas laughed, deciding it was time to step in.

            “Everything’s fine,” Bernard smiled, linking an arm around Josh.  “We ready?”

            Harriet scoffed somewhere to the right of Thomas.  “How am I getting stuck with you four?”

            “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Josh asked.

            Thomas shrugged with his good shoulder.  “I asked the others.  I don’t want a big group anyway.”

            Newt stepped up to the circle now, slinging the bag over his shoulder.  “Okay, all set.”

            “Finally,” Bernard said.

            Newt responded with a quick backhand to his ribs before nodding toward the trees. 

            Thomas smiled at Bernard.  “Asked for it,” he laughed, falling into step behind Newt.

            “Yeah, yeah.”

           

            The trees were dense here and Newt gave up the lead to Bernard and Josh.  They seemed to be fine navigating the woods, marking trees to find their way back. 

            “Our Maze was all woods,” Bernard was explaining.  “Just lines of trees everywhere with small pathways here and there.”

            “I think we had, what, two trees in our entire Glade?” Thomas asked, looking up to Newt’s back.

            “Four,” Newt answered.  “Aside from the Deadheads, of course.”

            “We had a few,” Harriet spoke up from behind Thomas.  “Evergreens.”

            “Ice, right?” Thomas asked over his shoulder.

            “Yep.”

            “Did you guys build igloos?” Josh called back to her.

            “Yes, actually,” Harriet laughed.  “But just small ones for supplies.  We had a cabin where we actually stayed.”

            “What’d you guys have?” Thomas asked the front of the line as he stepped around a pile of branches.

            “Treehouses,” Josh answered.

            “Until we didn’t,” Bernard muttered.

            Thomas caught the small shove Josh gave Bernard.  “Okay,” he laughed. “I have to ask.  What happened?”

            “Josh got fire happy.”

            “It was cold,” Josh insisted.

            “That didn’t mean you had to burn the whole place down.”

            “It got us out, didn’t it?”

            “Hang on a second,” Newt said as he veered out of the line to the left. 

            “What happened?” Harriet asked. 

            Thomas watched as Newt slowly approached a tree and crouched down next to it.

            “What is it?” Josh asked.

            “Tommy, hand me one of those small branches,” Newt gestured behind him but continued facing whatever he was inspecting.

            Thomas grabbed one of the smaller twigs in the pile he’d stepped over and brought it to Newt, crouching down next to him.  His eyes immediately found what had enraptured Newt’s attention. “Holy…”

            The smaller twigs and dead leaves that littered the floor crunched behind him as the others crowded around them to look down as well.

            “Is that…?”

            “A bird,” Thomas finished for Josh. 

            “Is it dead?” Harriet asked.

            Newt slowly shook his head.  “It’s breathing.”  He slowly reached forward with the twig.  It shook with his hand.

            “Don’t poke it with a stick,” Josh snapped, grabbing Newt’s wrist.  “What’s wrong with you?”

            Thomas’ eyes snapped up to Josh. He felt his body relax as he registered the laugh on his face. 

            “Did you wanna touch it?” Newt asked.

            “No, but I still don’t think we should be poking it with a stick.”

            “Ignore him,” Bernard said, bending over and leaning his hands on his knees.  “Do it.”

            Newt turned back to the bird.  “Now I feel bad.”

            “Give me the damn thing,” Harriet said as she took the twig from Newt.  She slowly reached over and prodded the side of the bird with the twig.

            The bird’s wings suddenly flapped wildly and the five of them scrambled backward into each other.

            “Okay,” Newt nodded. “Definitely alive.”

            They all inched closer as the bird twitched on the ground. 

            “Is it?” Harriet asked.

            Thomas leaned down to get a better look.  Its feathers were damp with something dark and clumped together in certain spots. Some spots were altogether empty, feathers having molted off. It was missing an eye and a trail of something black dripped from where it was meant to be.  The black goo trailed down onto the chipped beak.  “It’s infected,” Thomas breathed.

            “I thought The Flare was strictly a human disease?” Bernard asked.

            “The virus must have adapted,” Thomas shook his head, staring in awe at the bird.  “Like the cliffs.”  He gestured to the trees around them.  “It’s evolving.”

            “That’s not good,” Newt said.

            “I wonder…” Bernard muttered, walking off to the side.

            “Where are you going?” Josh asked.

            “Remember the caramel Gunn made?”

            “Yeah, it was disgusting,” Josh muttered to Thomas.

            “He got the syrup from one of the maple trees in the Wood.”  Bernard ran a hand down the bark of a tree.  “Newt, do you have that pipe?”

            Newt stood and pulled a thin, reedy metal pipe from the bag.  “Was wondering what this was for.”  He passed it to Bernard along with a hammer.

            Thomas watched as Bernard continued to tap on the tree with a fist.  He seemed to find a spot that met his approval and pressed the jagged edge of the pipe to the trunk.  He started hammering against it, forcing the pipe to cut through the rough bark. 

            Thomas watched as Newt turned back to the bird and eyed it with an unspoken question.  “What is it?” Thomas asked as he stepped up next to him.

            “Just trying to figure out how the virus would have gotten into the bird if it was strictly confined to humans.”

            Thomas scratched the back of his neck beneath the strap of the sling.  “I mean, there are a couple of ways, probably.”

            Newt turned to look at Thomas now, brow raised.  “Do tell.”

            “Well, for one, the Cranks that were in the woods.  They could have bitten or scratched at it,” he nodded down to the bird.  “Or each other.”

            “How would that…?”

            Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know, I mean it’s all just theorizing, but if the Cranks are walking around bleeding, touching the trees and whatever else, the birds have easy access to that blood.  It could get into their systems that way.”

            “Or through the plants,” Newt said, turning fully to him now.  “If the plants are infected and the animals are eating them it’d get into their system.”

            Thomas felt something click in his brain.  “Hold on, it’s us.”

            “What?”

            “Well not _us_ us. But humans. If humans are infected, they’re breathing out the virus.”

            “Like when you have a cold,” Newt nodded along.

            “Exactly.”

            Newt’s eyes widened a bit.  “The plants are taking that in and converting it to oxygen.”

            “It’s a circle,” Thomas nodded.  His brain was running along a tangent and he worked to keep up with it.  “If the virus is able to expand from the brain and into human cells then it would make sense.”   

            “The Scorch!” Newt answered.  “It’s the lack of plants there.  They can’t fight the virus off because there’s not enough clean oxygen from other plants.” 

            “The infected carbon dioxide from us is too much and takes over. The plants give into it.”

            “And if the animals are eating the plants, it would make sense that it would get into their system.”

            “Hey,” Josh called over, pulling Thomas from his zone. “When you two are done with your biology lesson, you might wanna see this.”

            Thomas glanced back at Newt and the two of them walked over to the other three standing around the tree.

            Bernard managed to get the pipe deep into the tree and a sticky dark liquid was dripping from it.

            “That’s not normal sap,” Newt shook his head.

            “The trees are infected,” Thomas nodded.  “That’s the virus.”

            Bernard worked to wrench the pipe back out from the tree.  “Someone help with this.”

            Thomas felt a small tug at his left arm and turned to see Harriet pulling him back.  “Don’t even think about it.”  She eyed his shoulder pointedly.

            “You either,” Bernard looked at Josh. “In fact, step way back from this.  You shouldn’t be here.”

            Thomas and Josh stepped back from the tree.  Josh lifted the neckline of his shirt up and over his nose and mouth and Thomas was suddenly very aware of what they’d just discovered.  The Flare had adapted.  It evolved.  It was airborne.

            A minute later, a crack sounded as the other three managed to pull the pipe from the tree.

            “Holy…” Josh started, muffled beneath his shirt.

            Thomas slowly took a step forward as the others backed away.  He looked into the small hole they’d carved out from the trunk.  Black goo coated the bark.  It was rotted to its core.

            “Well,” Newt said.  “This can’t be good.”

            “We have to tell the others,” Thomas said suddenly.  “Immediately.”

            Harriet suddenly looked up at him.  “The tea leaves.”

            Thomas’ eyes shot to Josh who slowly shook his head.  “I didn’t have any,” he said through his shirt.

            “Tommy,” Newt said, barely above a whisper. 

            Thomas turned to see the fear in his eyes and Thomas’ heart plummeted.  He thought it before Newt even said it.

            “Brenda.”

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Chapter up early today. Look at that. A special thanks to all the Word Wars we did on Friday and Saturday on the discord! Knocked out half of this chapter in there. (:
> 
> 1\. The Trail and Trees - Thomas is noticing their surroundings changing. Almost as if they're getting out of the Scorch, closer to possibly civilization.
> 
> 2\. Bone Shafters - Thanks to Manda for helping come up with a Group B term for medjacks!
> 
> 3\. Redislocations - I only have experience with my knees, but I think it's fairly common for prior dislocations to redislocate. Talked with a friend who's had experience with dislocating her shoulder and got most of this info from her while throwing in some research I did on my own. Hopefully I was able to touch on it correctly.
> 
> 4\. Thomas and Harriet - I live for the idea that the two of them build a friendship together. I've been working toward it over the course of this story. She's starting to open up more and welcome the others in and Thomas is beginning to reach out. They're learning together.
> 
> 5\. Frypan has had ENOUGH of Newtmas flirting. 
> 
> 6\. Newt's Dream - He is having a full on Moment in the backseat of that truck with Thomas. (For those curious about this dream.. check out “Shared Spaces” by tattered_dreams). Then perhaps reread chapter 7.
> 
> 7\. Brenda and Bernard's Bet - They definitely had a running bet whether or not Thomas would even notice Frypan not going back to the truck. But Brenda knows how observant Thomas is. 
> 
> 8\. Josh's Lighter - Josh really loves fire, okay? (Also thank you all for putting up with my gratuitous OC moments.. This was almost a deleted scene, but Manda and Rach insisted I keep it. So have it.)
> 
> 9\. The Glade, The Spring, The Wood - Have some spare conversation about the different Mazes! I love exploring this and imagining the different setups.
> 
> 10\. Thomas' Flare Theory - *shoves intelligent Thomas into the fic* Have some mashed up science theories. Thomas is goddamn SMART, okay? I’m tired of people shrugging off his intelligence. I’m not gonna rant on this, but just Know that I will defend Thomas’ brain with my life okay?? lol He may not be 100% correct, but he’s smart enough to have theories. Anyway, *strums guitar* have nerd boyfriends.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I love trees. And I love all of you.


	23. On Falling and the Flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: It's the Little Things, Really

 

 

            Thomas burst through the line of trees and screamed.  “Don’t drink it!” His legs worked overtime over the loose gravel and he slid the last few feet to the small fire the group had built.  He ignored the looks and questions directed his way in favor of lifting his leg and kicking the basin, knocking it from its place above the fire and sending its contents spilling across the dirt below.

            “Thomas!” He heard Brenda yelling.

            He spun and grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her and looking back and forth between her eyes.

            “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to wrestle from his grasp.

            “Are you okay?” he asked. He looked up to Jorge and Vince.  “Is she okay?”

            “Thomas, what is happening?” Vince asked.

            “The tea!” Harriet gasped as she caught up to them.  “It’s infected.”

            “It’s the virus,” Josh’s muffled voice added.

            “What’s the virus?” Vince asked.

            “Thomas, calm down!” Jorge said, prying Thomas’ hands off of Brenda’s shoulders.

            “No, you don’t understand,” Thomas continued to push.  He shook his head against the protesting voices and the added explanations from Josh and Harriet.  Finally, he snapped and called out above the others. “The leaves are poisoned!”

            The camp silenced, the only sound was an uneven gait coming from somewhere behind him.

            “Okay, Thomas,” Vince said quietly.  “We’re listening.  Calmly explain.”

            Thomas inhaled and tried to gather his thoughts.  “We were in the woods and found a bird,” he started.  He went on to tell them about the tree sap and his and Newt’s theories, and then waited for a response while the others seemed to roll the information over.

            “I don’t know, Thomas,” Jorge shook his head. “Something seems off about that.  I’ve lived in the Scorch a long time.  We’ve always found food and drink through the plants.”

            “Yeah, but maybe it’s evolving.”

            “Maybe,” he shrugged.  “There’s no way to tell for sure.”

            Thomas pushed this aside.  He didn’t have time for speculation.  “Who drank the tea?”

            “Thomas the leaves were boiled.  Any germs-“

            “Who drank it?”  Thomas’ eyes flitted as Jorge, Brenda and Frypan each rose a hand.  Something twisted in his gut.  “Okay,” he nodded.  “Okay. We need to check somehow.”  He turned to Harriet.

            “Don’t look at me,” she said, arms folded.  “This is your territory.  I can do stitches and muscle therapy.”

            Thomas looked at Josh and Bernard.  “What about you guys? Either of you have any medical experience?”

            Josh shook his head, shirt still pulled over his nose and mouth.

            “That was all Gunn,” Bernard answered.  “We were both Hunters.  Matt was a Mapper.”

            Thomas chewed at his lip. 

            Newt stepped forward as he spoke.  “Why don’t we all just take a breath?  We don’t know for sure what’s going on.  Thomas and I were just throwing ideas back and forth about what it could mean.  Nothing is definite.”

            Thomas felt, more than heard, the sighs of relief around the circle.  He let himself take part, offering a small smile to Newt.  It was always something warming and calming when Newt’s leadership came out.  Thomas was constantly reminded of Newt’s steadying presence, his ability to pull a group together.  Ever the Second-in-Command.

            “Go on,” Newt gestured to the group.  “Everyone relax and carry on.  Avoid consuming anything with the leaves for now until we have this sorted.”

            “How are we supposed to sort this?” Harriet asked. “No one knows what’s going on.”

            “Exactly, so right now there’s not much we can do,” Newt shrugged. “Right now, just stick to the other food.  If anyone has an idea, share it. Until then we’re working on close to nothing here, and it’s not helping anyone to panic.” 

            The others seemed to decide he was right and began to make themselves busy to keep from focusing on the new information.  Newt reached forward to tug on Thomas’ arm.  He nodded off to the side and Thomas followed him after one quick glance back toward Brenda.

            They walked far enough off not to be heard, but still kept close to the group.  Thomas didn’t know how far he was willing to get away from Brenda. 

            Newt crossed his arms, brows furrowed in concentration.  “Alright,” he started.  “Talk.  What do you think?”

            Thomas blinked. “What do you mean?”

            “The leaves? The tea? Brenda and Josh?”

            Thomas shook his head. “I have no idea.  Josh is saying he didn’t drink it, so he could be fine, for now.  I’m just worried about if we were right about it being airborne.”

            Newt nodded as he unfolded one of his arms to lift his hand to his mouth. He was lost in thought, no doubt about what this could mean, but Thomas could only focus on Newt’s mannerisms.  The tilt of his head, his fingers running across his mouth as his eyes watched something in his head that Thomas couldn’t follow. Newt’s mouth moved against his fingers.

            Thomas blinked.  “Hm?”

            “The stems, Tommy,” he repeated, dropping his hands.  “What if we broke those apart? Maybe they’d have something inside that would tell us.”

            “What, like the tree trunk?”

            “Maybe,” Newt shrugged.  “Listen, I didn’t help out much in the gardens, but I did enough with Zart to know a little bit about plants.  I can take this on, if you want.  Maybe Harriet can try to help even if she doesn’t know much.”

            “I can help.”

            “Thomas, you have a lot to be doing right now.”

            Thomas looked around at the camp.  “What am I doing?”

            Newt’s mouth curled up in the corner, his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Maybe you and Vince could take another look at the maps.  Maybe get us out of here.  If the trees and plants are infected, then we shouldn’t be near them.  Not with Brenda and Josh here.”  
            Thomas dropped his gaze, scuffed at the dirt below his boots.  “I don’t even know where to go.”

            “You’ll find something.  You always do.”

            Thomas looked back up at him and let a small laugh out.  “You really think that?”

            “I know that, Tommy,” Newt said as he clapped a hand to Thomas’ good shoulder.  His fingers toyed with the sleeve.  “You’ve gotten us this far.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas scoffed.  “To an infected forest.”  
            Newt tilted his head.  “And if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t know about the possibility of the virus being airborne.  We can take precaution now.”

            Thomas stilled his leg and ran a hand down his face.  “I wonder if we should send them off.”

            “Send who off where?”

            “Josh and Brenda.  Maybe even Jorge and Vince.”

            “Tommy…” Newt sighed, dropping his arm.

            “No, Newt.  I’m serious.  This is getting worse by the day.  They’re not immune, they can’t be in this.”

            “And you’re going to convince them of that, are you?”

            “I can try.”

            Newt huffed a small laugh through his smile.  “You can, but this goes back to what we said down in the town.  You can’t stop people from following through on this mission.  You can’t tell Josh to stay behind when his friends are with WCKD.  You know you wouldn’t if you were in his place.”

            Thomas let his head roll back as he sighed through his nose.  “I know.”  
            “Come on,” Newt said through a cracked laugh. 

            Thomas froze at the hand suddenly on his waist and then pulled his head forward again.

            “Leave this task to me and Harriet.  We can work this out.  You focus on getting us down from the Cliffs.”

            “And what am I supposed to do about Brenda and Josh?”

            Newt shook his head slowly.  “Not much you can do except ask them what they want.  This is their decision, Tommy.”

            “You’re good at this, you know?”

            Newt tilted his head, brow furrowed.

            “Talking to me.”

            Newt snorted.  “Once of us has to be.”

            Thomas’ smile opened wide in a silent laugh as he looked down at the ground. He felt Newt’s hand tighten just slightly at his waist. 

            Newt’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. “Hey.”

            Thomas looked up to Newt’s smile, soft in his eyes.

            “You’re good at it, too.”

            Thomas reached out to tug at the hem of Newt’s shirt and smiled as Newt stepped forward under the pull. He tilted his head up and met Newt’s smile with his own.

            “You’re good at that, too,” Newt said against him.

 

***  
  
            “How’s my favorite girl?” Thomas asked, standing on the back tire of Jorge’s truck and leaning over the gate to wink at Brenda.

            “I’m biting down on several comments to spare you.  What’s up?”

            Thomas snorted.  “What’re you doing in here?”

            Brenda shrugged.

            Thomas felt a twist in his gut.  “Mind if I join you?”  
            She was stuffed between bags and crates of supplies, but she gestured to the tiny square of space that she sat in.

            Thomas hopped down from the tire and lowered the truck gate.  He used his good arm to hoist himself up onto it and hurdled a pile of bags to the center before he sat down next to her.  In the small space, they sat shoulder to shoulder.  Something about it was comforting.

            They sat in silence for a few moments until Brenda finally turned to him.  “What’s going on, Thomas?”

            “I don’t know,” he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his arm where it rested in the sling.  “I keep trying to piece it all together, to see how it could have spread this far into the Cliffs.”

            “No, Thomas,” she said.  “I mean why are you sitting back here with me?”

            He looked up at her now, brows furrowed.  “What? Should I not be?”

            “I’m not saying that,” she laughed.  “But I also know you well enough to know that your head is probably exploding from thinking too much.  You didn’t come here to relax.  What do you wanna talk to me about?”

            Thomas dropped his gaze again.  Yes, Brenda was right, and he did have a specific reason to come up here, but something inside him hurt at her insinuation.  Something hurt at her knowing he didn’t come up here just to relax with her.  He made a mental note to change that in the future.  The future he would be sure they had together. 

            “Thomas,” she groaned.

            He laughed and leaned back against the bundle of sheets behind them.  “Okay, okay.  So, you’re right.  I did have something to ask you, but I want to make sure you know that I’m not just talking to you for information.  You know that, right?”

            “We’re not getting sappy.  What info do you need?”

            Thomas dropped the smile from his face and swallowed.  He dropped his gaze to his leg, making sure it stayed still.  He’d been getting better at controlling the nervous tick, even if it took some focus. He exhaled.  “Listen, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

            “Thomas,” she urged.

            “I just want to know, so I can keep an eye out.”

            “You want to know what it was like.”

            He tried to look at her but couldn’t pull his gaze farther than her boots.

            “To be honest, I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”

            Now he looked at her.  “What?”

            She shrugged.  “You’re curious by nature.  I expected you to ask during that entire week at the Right Arm before we left.  When you didn’t, I waited for it every day after that.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “I just didn’t think it was any of my business.”

            “Like that’s stopped you before.”

            Thomas let himself laugh now.  “Okay, well.  This is different.”

            Brenda sighed.  “It sucked, but it wasn’t really until the very end that it hit me.  Right around when I met you, actually.”

            “Go figure,” Thomas snorted.

            “It was pretty quick.  You were there,” she shrugged.  “Just over a couple of days, really.”

            Thomas flinched at the memory, the way his legs strained as he worked to hold her up and keep her from falling through the shattered window into the broken Scorch below.  Only after had he realized he hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t pulled her away from the Crank in time.  “Does it still hurt?”

            Brenda shrugged as she reached forward to pull up her pant leg.  The teeth marks had healed over, leaving raised bright pink marks. “Barely feel it anymore, to be honest.  If I add enough pressure to it, sure.  Otherwise I tend to forget about it.  It’s just like a regular scar now.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “And everything else?  It’s all fine too?”

            Brenda looked up at him now, squinting just slightly in the light.  “Are you asking if I’m still crazy?”

            “No,” he shook his head.  “That’s not what I mean.”

            “Yeah, it is,” she laughed.  “But it’s okay.  I guess it’s weird.  I mean it’s weird enough for me.  I’m the first Crank I know who came back.”

            “Don’t call yourself that.”

            “Why not?” She shrugged.  “I am one.  Or at least I was.  And I might be again one day.”

            Thomas slowly shook his head.  “Not while I’m here.”

            Brenda rolled her eyes. “My hero.”

            “I’m serious, Bren.”

            “I _know_ , Thomas,” she ground out, rolling her pant leg back down.  “That’s not what you came here for.  What do you wanna know?”

            Thomas looked back down to his hands.  “I just want to know what to expect.”  He waited a beat of silence before he looked up.  She looked back at him with brow raised.

            “I thought you were immune.”

            “No, no,” Thomas shook his head.  “Not me.  I mean…”

            Brenda lifted her head in understanding then.  “For us.  For me and Josh.”

            Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean we have no idea if we were right about the tea leaves and what it could mean.  Frypan seems to be doing fine, but he’s also immune.”

            “Well, if I start showing symptoms, I’ll be sure to alert you.”

            Thomas ran his tongue over his teeth.  “What was it like?”

            “Cranking out?”

            Thomas bit down on his tongue.

            “Thomas, come on.  It’s okay.”

            “Brenda, you could have died.”

            “I didn’t.”

            “But you could have.”

            “And you barely knew me,” she laughed.  “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at her.  “What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered? You think I wouldn’t have cared because I didn’t know you?  Why do you think I ran after you in that building instead of going with my friends?  Why I stayed behind and made sure you got out safely? Why I let a couple of strangers take my blood if it meant putting off the infection a bit longer for you?”

            “Like I said,” she smirked.  “My hero.”

            Thomas sighed.

            “Alright, alright,” Brenda laughed.  She took a breath and exhaled.

            Thomas took the opportunity to slide his eyes over to her and watch as her face morphed into a mask of indifference.  It twisted in his gut.

            “It was a bunch of things, really.  I don’t remember them all that clearly.  Those days between Marcus’ party and getting to the Right Arm were sort of a blur for me.”

            Thomas recalled the week-long trek from Marcus’ up to the Mountains and to the Right Arm. It was a quiet travel.  Several of them were shoved in the back of Jorge’s truck, sleeping on or around each other.  Thomas smelled a faint hint of lavender from the memory and his chest tightened.  He chased it away with a couple of blinks to bring himself back to the present. 

            “Not really sure how it started, to be honest,” she continued.  “I mean, we were scrambling around in a panic that whole day alone.  The Bliss made everything numb.  Couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.  I’m still not sure if that was just the Bliss or if it was the Flare starting to take effect.  The nausea was terrible, though.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas laughed.  “Come to think of it, I think I remember stopping a few times to let you throw up.”

            “Your friend kept making fun of me for being car sick,” Brenda snorted.  “If I wasn’t so nauseous I’d have punched him.”

            “Well, when we get him back you can yell at him all you want.”

            Brenda’s face morphed into something pained, almost pitying.  “Thomas…”

            “So,” he cleared his throat.  “Continue.  What else was it?”

            Brenda sighed through her nose, but let it drop.  “I wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, couldn’t think straight about anything.  The worst was the way my brain would input things that weren’t really there.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Just weird things.  Sometimes I’d think I was seeing something that wasn’t there.  Or someone.  I’d hear things wrong or hear things when there wasn’t even anyone speaking. Again, it was like how it was on the Bliss.  Do you remember?”

            Thomas swallowed.  Yes, he remembered.  He remembered the way the haze took over, how the world tilted around him and how he saw things that weren’t real, the haunted visions that he still couldn’t get out of his head no matter how hard he tried.  He nodded. “Have you been feeling any of it lately?”

            Brenda let out a small laugh.  “No, Thomas.  I’m doing fine.  Not pins and needles or cramps or anything.”

            “You’d tell me if you did, right?”

            “You worry too much.”

            “Maybe you don’t worry enough.”

            Brenda shrugged.  “Not about things I can’t help.”

            “What do you worry about, then?”

            Brenda’s smile dropped only slightly as her eyes shifted.  “I don’t know.”

            Thomas worked out how to ask, how to only gently prod the topic without pushing too hard, but couldn’t find a way to breach it.  Maybe some things were better left unspoken. 

            “What about you?” she asked.

            “What about me?”

            “Are you ever gonna talk to me about what’s been going on?” she nodded pointedly to something over Thomas’ shoulder.

            He turned and looked out past the camp to where Newt, Harriet, Bernard and Jorge sat huddled around something.  Thomas turned back to her.  “They’re looking at tea leaves.”

            Brenda snorted and leaned back on the supply bags, closing her eyes.  “Sure, Tommy.”

            Thomas bit down on his smile.  He’d get her back later.

 

***  
  
            “He’s looked better,” Harriet sighed as Thomas crouched down next to the comforter. 

            Matt’s face was pale and covered in a gleam of sweat.  They’d covered him with another sheet after Harriet replaced his bandages, but small patches of sweat were already blossoming about.

            “What can we do?”

            “I don’t know,” Harriet shook her head.  “I’m not sure how to treat the infection with the supplies we have and I’m afraid to use any of the plants in the forest.”

            “What is it?” Josh asked from beneath the bandana he now seemed to have permanently tied around his nose and mouth.

            “I thought he was immune,” Newt added.

            “Yeah, but not to regular infection,” Harriet squinted up at him. 

            “So, this isn’t the Flare?” Thomas asked.

            Harriet shook her head looking back down at Matt.  “No, I don’t think so.”

            “Then what is it?”

            “It’s just infection,” Harriet shrugged.  “His entire side was torn open during that battle.  Between the dirt and sand around us, the germs that were on the Crank who did it, the sweat and blood and anything else he came into contact with.  We don’t have proper hydration, proper hygiene.”  She turned to Thomas.  “We’re not meant to survive in these conditions. All of that getting into his system can’t be helping.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Even if his body can fight off the Flare virus, it might be spending so much energy on that, that he can’t focus on the other infections.”

            “That’s what I’m thinking.”

            “There has to be something we can do.”

            Harriet sighed.  “Unless we fall into some better med supplies, his body has to fight it off on its own.”

            “There was nothing left with the North Force?”

            “I’m a little worried to use it.  We don’t know where they got the supplies, what got mixed in with it-”

            “Use it,” Thomas said.

            “Thomas,” Josh started.

            “Josh, look at him.  We don’t really have a choice here.”  Thomas looked up to meet Josh’s eyes.  Worry and fear was written in them, but they hardened over.  He nodded once.  Thomas looked across to Harriet as he stood.  “Try it.  Somebody stays next to him at all times.  Any sign of change, tell me.”

            Harriet looked like she wanted to say something, but decided better of it.  “Okay.”

            Thomas turned to Newt.  “Agreed?”

            Newt’s eyes stayed on Matt, but they seemed somewhere distant. 

            Thomas wondered if he was remembering the same memory he was, the same visions of Alby flashing in his head.

            “Okay,” Newt said.  He blinked up to look at Thomas.  “Okay,” he repeated.  His face was drawn blank and something twisted in Thomas’ gut at the fact that he perhaps didn’t know what Newt was feeling, what he was thinking.  He wondered then if something entirely different had flashed before Newt’s eyes.  Maybe it wasn’t Alby at all.

            Thomas watched Newt glance down once more at Matt before turning and walking off toward Joe’s truck.

            “Thomas, I have no problem using this stuff to treat him,” Harriet said, pulling his attention back.  “At least to the best that I can.  But we’re gonna need to find him real help.  Real medicine.”

            Thomas nodded.  “I know.  I’ll go over the map with Vince.”  He turned back to where Newt was yanking open the trunk of the truck.

            “Thomas.”

            “What?” he snapped, turning back to Harriet.

            She rose an eyebrow at him.

            “Sorry,” he shook his head.  “What is it?”

            She stayed still a minute before lowering her eyebrow and exhaling through her nose.   “I think you should look at the map now.  The sooner we get out of this area, the better.”

            Thomas nodded.  She was right, they needed to leave.  “I’ll link up with him now.  Stay with Matt.”

 

 

            Thomas spread the three pieces of the map onto the hood of Vince’s truck and unearthed the compass from his pocket and placed it next to them.

            “Well this is great,” Vince snorted.  “A torn-up map and a broken compass.”

            “Vince,” Thomas warned.  They didn’t have time to weigh the pros and cons of their supplies.  They just had to use what they had and move.

            “Alright,” Vince rubbed a hand across his jaw.  His hair shifted where it fell to his shoulders.

            It made Thomas self-conscious about his own.  Surely it had grown.  Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

            Vince pointed to the map.  “Okay, Arka Cliffs here.  It looks like there used to be a path here just below.  If we can get ourselves there-”

            “That’s South,” Thomas said, grabbing the compass.  He held it up and watched the small red needle spin round.

            “Thomas,” Vince said, lowering the compass.  “Calm yourself.  We need to be sure, weigh our options.”

            Thomas bit down on his protest and looked over the map again.  “Okay, what else is there?”

            “Well, we can keep going North to this side of the mountain.  Looks like nothing but flatland there but it might be another town.  Might have supplies.”

            “We should go there, Matt needs medical supplies.”

            “Okay,” Vince held up a hand to slow him down. “But, we also have East and West.  Now over here we got more of what looks like a river, though it’s probably not there anymore.  And this way it looks like more mountains.  Could be good for coverage from WCKD.”

            “Coverage from WCKD doesn’t matter anymore,” Thomas shook his head.  “If they find us, we’ll be able to follow the berg back to its home base.”

            “Bait,” Vince said.  “You’re trying to be bait.”

            “I’m not trying to be anything, I’m thinking of plans.”

            “Okay.  Well, think of better ones.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes.

            “Thomas, if you’re not focused on thi-”

            “I’m focused,” Thomas shook his head.  “I just want to get moving.”  He could feel Vince’s eyes on him, skeptical.  He sighed and when he spoke, he kept his voice low.  “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

 

           

***  
  
            He found him sitting against the back wheel of the truck.

 

            Thomas approached cautiously and paused a foot away from him.  “Newt?”

            Newt’s eyes slid from the small gadgets in his hands to the side.  They shifted up to Thomas. “Hey, Tommy.”  They dropped again to his project.

            Thomas tried to work out whatever was being wrung tight in his chest.   He watched Newt fumble more with whatever was in his hands.  Thomas finally stepped forward and slid down the side of the truck to sit next to him.  When Newt shifted a bit to the side to make room, Thomas gladly accepted and sat shoulder to shoulder with him.

            His eyes fell on the small walkie talkie in Newt’s hand. Next to them was Newt’s open knapsack, spare wires sticking out of it.

            “Any luck?” Thomas asked.

            Newt snorted.  “Not at all.”

            Thomas nodded, swallowed in the silence.  Something tense flitted in the air around them.  He slid his eyes further sideways to look at Newt.

            There was a loose wire wrapped around his neck and two rubber bands around his wrist resting on a black wristwatch. 

            “Nice watch,” Thomas offered. 

            Newt let go of the wire he was unsuccessfully connecting and tilted his arm for them to both eye the watch.  One of the hands ticked along.  “Found it in one of the boxes.”

            “Does it work?”

            “I’ve no idea.”  He dropped his hand back down to the radio.

            “Any word on the tea leaves?” Thomas asked.

            “Nope.”

            Thomas stilled his leg.  “We looked over the map,” he tried.

            Newt looked at him now.  “What’d you come up with?”

            Thomas’ stomach turned.  “Well,” he tilted his head.  “I mean we have some options.”

            Newt’s hope faded from his face.  “Let me guess. Four options.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            Newt sighed through his nose as he leaned his head back against the truck

            “Listen,” Thomas said.  “We’re gonna figure something out.”

            Newt pulled his head back up to focus on the project in his hands.  “If I can get these working,” he started, wrapping a wire around the antenna tightly, “then maybe we can start splitting up to explore more ground.”  He held the wire down with his thumb and pulled a rubber band from his wrist.

            Thomas watched as it snagged on the watch.  Newt pulled, pulled again, pulled a third time until it finally gave way and sprung from his wrist.  He wrapped it around the walkie to hold the wire in place and then wrapped it a second time.  Thomas watched as the band began to go slack for a moment before Newt decided to wrap it once more.  He stretched it, twisted, and pulled over the walkie, stretching it as much as he could over the antenna unt-

            “Shit!” Thomas yelled, flinching against the tire.

            The broken rubber band landed two feet from them. And then so did the walkie talkie.

            Thomas turned to look at Newt, who now sat with elbows on knees, head in hands.  Thomas pushed off from the truck and turned himself so he was kneeling in front of Newt.  He reached his hand out to lightly rest on Newt’s leg.  “Hey.”  He watched Newt sigh under the touch.

            Newt dropped his hands and pulled his head back to rest on the truck.  “Hey.”

            Thomas offered a small smile.  “What’s going on?”

            Newt shook his head.  “Nothing.”

            Thomas tilted his head.

            “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Newt sighed.  “Nothing is going on. It’s been months, Tommy.  We’re no closer to Minho.  In fact, we might be farther.  Matt’s got something going on that none of us can help with, we have no idea if the food is infected, we have nowhere to go to and not even anywhere to move from, I can’t get these radios to work because the bloody rubber bands keep breaking and if we just had Joe a little while longe-.” Newt froze, eyes on the ground between them. 

            Thomas watched the registration fade over Newt’s face, his whole body.  A small breath came from him as his shoulders slumped.  Thomas waited as he watched Newt breathe, mentally go over what he needed to. 

            Thomas tightened his grip at Newt’s knee just slightly to let him know he was there.

            Newt’s eyes shifted up to meet Thomas’, guilt flooding them.  “I didn’t mean…”

            “I know,” Thomas nodded. He watched Newt blink a few times, steady his breathing.  “Hey,” he tapped a finger to Newt’s leg.  “You wanna help me with my therapy?”

            Newt looked up at him.

            “I have to do these shoulder rotations or whatever,” Thomas sighed.  He knew it was probably obvious what he was doing, but he didn’t care. “She said I need a spotter, so I figure, if you’re willing to take a break, you could maybe help me out.”

            Newt let a small laugh out through his nose, the smallest of smiles breaking through.

            “Is that a yes?” Thomas smiled.

            “Sure,” Newt’s smile grew.

            “Great.  I’ll need you to untie the sling from my neck, too.”  Thomas stood and reached backward to feel the knot.

            Newt looked up at him, smile fully on his face now.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

            Thomas lowered his good hand and helped lift Newt up. 

            “Hang on,” Newt said as he reached down to his knapsack.  He ruffled through the contents, searching for something.  “I think it’d be better if…”

            Thomas raised an eyebrow. “If?”

            Newt pulled out a small pair of rusted scissors.

            “I don’t know if Harriet will want us to cut the sling,” Thomas tilted his head.

            “Not for the sling,” Newt smirked.  He reached forward, tugging the sleeve from Thomas’ left shoulder.  There was a quick snip at the seam and then Newt tossed the scissors aside in favor of using his hands to tear the sleeve from the shirt.  Thomas felt the sleeve slide down his arm and bundle around his wrist against the broken watch.  “Least Harriet could’ve done was cut both sleeves.”

            Thomas’ eyes flicked between Newt’s.

            Newt shrugged.  “Now we’re even.”

            Something loosened in Thomas’ chest and he felt air rush through his lungs as his heart pounded to keep up.  “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

            Newt’s mouth curled up into a lopsided smile.  “You’re the one with your sleeves cut off.”

            But Thomas wasn’t smiling.  He wasn’t laughing.  He was reaching forward to the back of Newt’s neck, he was pulling, and he was falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the late post. A whole day late - yikes. Yesterday was a busy day at work and then one of my best friends graduated!!!! So most of the night was spent cheering her on and celebrating. I just didn't have the focus to make this chapter what I needed it to be. Kept getting disappointed with how it was turning out, but I finally have it ready (as ready as it will be) for posting!
> 
> Just a few quick notes on this one:
> 
> 1\. The Tea - This will be explored a bit more later. We will eventually find out if it was, indeed, infected. For now, that's all I can say on that.
> 
> 2\. Flare Symptoms - I have SO MANY theories on how the Flare works, how the symptoms manifest, how long it takes, etc. and in my head, it varies person to person, but most of the symptoms generally work the same. However, being that this is coming from Brenda and she was both already infected AND on the Bliss, her telling of it may not be clear/accurate. Maybe we'll find out, hopefully we won't.
> 
> 3\. Matt - There's no SURE way for the others to know if Matt really is immune and this is the environment infecting him or if he isn't immune and it's the virus. This will be explored a bit more as the story continues. But as of now, it's up in the air, so if you're still confused, don't worry, so are the rest of the characters. hahaha
> 
> 4\. The Map - Just a small space to show that they're still lost, still trying to figure out where to go, and basically have no idea what they're doing. It's frustrating and tension is starting to run high.
> 
> 5\. Newt - Sometimes grief takes time to hit, sometimes it just steadily hits overtime. Newt always seemed, to me, the type to push his grief aside in favor of moving along and helping others. And when he couldn't do that, he would isolate himself. It slips through sometimes, but overall he keeps it contained. I wanted to include a small breaking moment - the first time he really talks about Joe's death aloud - and have it be a sort of slip-up. 
> 
> 6\. The Sleeve - I'm so glad this chapter is here so I could finally bring this little trope full circle!!! Newt has gotten even and Thomas realizes that it's the little things that can make you fall for someone. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for your patience on this chapter!!! The next one will be up Sunday, don't worry! Everything is back on schedule. <3


	24. On Braces and Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: The Boys Hit a Wall

 

            “Okay,” Newt said, brows furrowed.  “Move it this way now.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw and slowly extended his arm back to the right.  Newt’s fingers were feather light on his arm as he spotted him. Thomas winced slightly at the shot of pain through a nerve. 

            “You okay?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Thomas.”

            “I’m good,” he grit out.  Though, if Newt asked him a sixth time, he might have to spew out a different choice of words.  He continued moving his arm out toward the right, tightening the muscles around his shoulder.  It was aching and burning, but it was also further than he’d gotten all week.  If he could get through this, Harriet would let him take the sling off permanently.

            “Okay,” Newt nodded.  “Bring it back to this end.”

            “Hang on,” Thomas pushed out.  “I can go a bit more.”

            “Thomas, bring it to the other side.  You’re going to overextend it.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “You’re working it too much, you’re going to-”

            “It’s fine, Newt.”

            “Okay, you know what?” Newt dropped his hands to his hips and Thomas shot his other arm over to hold his bad one up.  “Go ahead.  Rush the healing. Push yourself.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw, ignoring Newt’s snide comments, and manually lowered his arm back down.  “That doesn’t count,” Thomas turned to Harriet.  “He took his hands away without warning and he’s distracting me.”

            “Oh,” Newt said.  “You wanna blame that on me now?”

            “If you don’t wanna help, then don’t.”

            “Okay,” Harriet said, louder than necessary.  She slapped her hands on her legs and pushed herself up from the rock she’d been sitting on.  She stepped forward toward them.  “Both of you quit bickering.  Thomas, listen to Newt.  Newt, don’t panic so much.”

            Thomas sighed and heard a mirrored one to his right, where Newt shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

            “Why don’t we take a break?” Harriet offered.

            “I can do it, Harriet,” Thomas insisted.  He moved his arm back and forth slowly in the small pendulum swing he’d been practicing for the past week.  Right and left, forward and back.  He started to move it in a circle, winced once at the pain, and then stopped.

            “That was convincing,” Newt sighed, folding his arms.

            Thomas pushed the retort out of his head. 

            “Don’t lift anything with it,” Harriet instructed.  “Don’t push, pull, write.  Don’t even pick up a twig.”

            “Yeah, Harriet, I get it.”

            “Don’t move it too much.  You keep the sling on if you’re moving a lot or sleeping.  If you’re just sitting around the camp, you can take it off.”

            “Got it.”

            “If I so much as hear someone suspect you of doing something stupid-”

            “Harriet, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

            Harriet eyed him skeptically. 

            “Hey guys,” Bernard’s voice pulled their attention from each other.  He approached them holding three small sandwiches made with the last of the food they’d had left over from the Scorch town.  Thomas didn’t focus on that.  “Figured you might want a break.”  He held out the sandwiches.

            Harriet turned to look at Thomas.  “Not with your right hand.”

            Thomas at least waited until she turned around to roll his eyes.  He took the sandwich from Bernard.

            After Newt shook his head and Bernard gleefully took the sandwich for himself, Harriet gave one glance back at Thomas before she nodded toward Vince’s truck.  “I’m gonna go check on Matt.  Don’t do anything crazy.”

            “I’m gonna climb a tree, actually,” Thomas smiled.

            Harriet gave him a withering look before she turned to walk in the direction of the truck.

            They sat in silence on the rocks for a bit while Thomas finished his breakfast and Newt rubbed circles into the side of his knee. 

            “You okay?” Thomas asked over a mouthful of food.

            Newt grunted a response.  “Some days more than others, but it’s fine.”  He pulled his hand back and stretched his legs out ahead of him.

            Thomas kept his eyes on Newt’s leg before bringing his gaze up to his face where he was squinting up at the sun.  Again, Thomas was suddenly aware that he didn’t know the story.  He wondered if he’d be crossing a line asking, but then, it was Newt.  And whatever began to grow between them over the last three and a half months seemed to bend that line.  Thomas took the last bite of his food, working it over.

            “Have you decided which direction we should go from here?” Newt asked.

            Thomas pulled the map from his pocket as he swallowed the last of the food.  He unfolded it carefully along the taped-up pieces.  “We’ve just continuously headed Northwest.  We can either head North to the other side of the Cliffs or West to go deeper.” He looked up at Newt.  “Any opinion on the matter?”

            Newt shrugged as he shook his head.

            Thomas bit down on the sigh threatening to escape.  “Do you think we should keep checking around this area?”  
            “Don’t know that we’ll find much,” he replied.

            Thomas snorted a laugh.  “Aren’t you a ball of sunshine today.”

            Newt turned to give him a deadpanned look.

            “Still mad about me beating you for shotgun?” Thomas grinned.

            “You stepped over the line.”

            “I was throwing with my left hand!”

            “Doesn’t mean you can cheat,” Newt said, a hint of a smile returning.

            “Whatever,” Thomas laughed. “I threw farther than you and that’s all that matters.”

            Newt looked up at him.  “Maybe we’ll just have to rematch then.”

            Thomas smiled fully at the teasing look on Newt’s face.  He opened his mouth to quip back, but stopped at Frypan shouting his name.

            The two of them looked back to where the group was huddled around the hood of Jorge’s truck.  Thomas turned back to look at Newt once and saw a mask of confusion on his face as well.  They both stood immediately and jogged over to the others.

            “What’s going on?” Thomas said as he shifted his way through Vince and Brenda to get a look.  There was an array of leaves spread out on the hood of Jorge’s truck.  There were several tea leaves torn at the veins, some with stems chopped or pressed down, some whole and untouched.  There were also tree leaves, blades of grass, leaves from bushes, etc.  Some of them were wet, some were dry, some were torn or balled up. They covered most of the hood of the truck.  “What is this?” he asked again.

            “We checked out a couple different types of leaves around the area since you found that tree.  These up here,” Jorge pointed to a small collection of pale green leaves, “are from that area.  Look at the markings, you see where all that blackness comes out from the stem here and spreads through the veins?”

            Thomas moved closer to inspect and felt Newt at his back doing the same.

            “Now here’s what we found at the stop we made the next day,” he pointed to leaves that were similar.

            “I don’t see a difference,” Newt said.

            “No, neither did we.  But watch.”  Jorge picked up one of the wet leaves from the first stop and a wet leaf from the second stop, and it was only then that Thomas noticed that he actually had clear plastic gloves covering his hands. Jorge motioned for something and Thomas turned to see Harriet pass over a square of a sheet, also sporting her own set of gloves.  It was then that he noticed the box of them next to her.  Must have come from the North Force.  Thomas vaguely wondered what other supplies they’d had that he didn’t go through.  He wondered where the North Force had gotten it all.

            “Bloody hell,” Newt breathed behind him. 

            Thomas turned his focus from the gloves to the square sheet that Jorge had in front of him. There was a dark black line smudged across the top and just below it was another.  Thomas furrowed his brow.  “What… I don’t…” he shook his head.

            “Look, _hermano_ ,” Jorge held the sheet up to the sunlight.  As the sun shone through the back of it, Thomas could see the difference as small as it was.  The second line had a hint of green mixed in with the black.

            “What does it mean?” he asked.

            “We’re thinking,” Fry said, “that maybe this leaf isn’t as infected as much as the other.  Doesn’t have as much of the virus.”

            “Exactly,” Jorge said, laying the square of fabric back on the truck.  “Now, keep watching.”  He reached up to grab one of each of the wet and dry tea leaves.  “Look at this,” he showed Thomas the dry leaf.  “There are no black markings around the leaf.”

            Sure enough, Thomas could trace the bright green veins sprouting from the stem throughout the leaf.  Not a trace of black. 

            Jorge took the wet leaf and balled it up before he pressed it against the sheet and dragged it across, making a pale green line.

            Thomas tilted his head.

            “This tea leaf wasn’t taken from here. Not from these cliffs.”

            “Are we absolutely sure?”

            “Thomas that’s what a tea leaf should look like,” Frypan added.  “That’s how they used to look when I’d crush them in the tea loaves back in the Glade.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.  Zart must’ve shown me eight different times how to check if the leaves were still good or not.”

            “So, they’re fine?” Thomas asked.

            “They’re perfect,” Frypan shrugged.

            There was a collective sigh of relief around the group.  Vince’s arm stretched across Brenda’s shoulders, pulling her into his side, and Fry and Jorge shared a smile.  Thomas felt a small brush of knuckles against his hand.  He let out a small laugh. 

            “Feels good to win one,” Josh said from beneath the scarf.

            “It gets better,” Jorge grinned. 

            The others leaned closer as Jorge took a wet leaf from another small cluster.  “This is from the last stop.” He crushed the leaf into a line along the sheet and Thomas watched the trail of a deep brownish green show.  “And this is where we are today,” Jorge continued, balling up another wet leaf that Harriet handed him. 

            Thomas held his breath as Jorge drew another line.  Dark green with a small hint of brown to it.  Thomas’ eyes flicked between it and the one before.  They were nearly identical, but the Thomas could see the second one was still lighter.  “You’ve tried this a few times?”

            “This was the fourth test,” Jorge nodded down to the square of the sheet.

            “So, the leaves are healing?”

            “No,” Jorge tilted his head.  “I don’t think it’s healing so much as it is the Flare hasn’t caught up to them.  It seems the deeper into the Cliffs we go, the greener the leaves become.”

            Thomas looked back up to the first line.  Black.  If he didn’t know to look for it, he wouldn’t have noticed any of the green at all.

            “So, the virus isn’t in the cliffs?” Josh asked.

            “It could be soon,” Vince answered.  “But it looks like we’re ahead of it.  It takes time for it to spread, but it looks like it might be safe as we go on.”

            “Safer,” Brenda corrected him.

            “Safer.”

            “What’s so different about this area though?” Frypan asked.

            “The trees,” Newt suggested.

            Thomas turned to look at him over his shoulder.

            “They’re clustered here,” he explained.  “The road’s gotten narrower, the trees are taller.  There’s actual grass growing here,” he nodded to the side of the path where, indeed, tufts of grass were blossoming in the dirt.  He turned to Thomas.  “Remember what we said about the plants exhaling the virus?”

            Thomas nodded.  “They’re not breathing in as much of the virus anymore.  They’re using the trees and plants around them as a deterrent.”

            “Strength in numbers, and all that,” Newt gestured vaguely.

            “That’s brilliant,” Harriet muttered.

            The group looked up to her.

            “What?” She asked.  “I’m allowed to compliment you guys sometimes. When you deserve it.”

            Thomas snorted.

            “Oh don’t smile at me like that,” she said, screwing her face up.

            Thomas looked up and then followed her gaze over his shoulder to see Newt smiling proudly.  He made a mental note to start complimenting Newt aloud and not only in his head, if only to see that smile.  “Alright,” he nodded, looking once more at the square fabric they’d been working on.  “So, this is good news.”

            “Also,” Frypan stepped forward.  “Not to keep on about the tea loaves, but the tea leaves can easily go bad when they’re not kept in a moist environment. They start growing all this gross stuff on them.  These don’t have that, obviously.  Otherwise I’d be throwing up everywhere.  Man, this one time, we didn’t realize the leaves I used were dried out as much as they were.”

            “Stop,” Newt held up a hand.  “Nobody needs to hear that story.”

            “Let’s just say,” Frypan laughed.  “The Sloppers had way too much work that week.”

            Harriet’s sigh could just be heard over Brenda’s laughter.  “And that’s my cue,” she said, adjusting the strap of her shotgun.  “Are we done with this experiment?”  
            “Wait,” Thomas shook his head, laughing.  “Fry, details aside, what are you getting at with the moisture?”

            “Right,” he said, shaking some memory out of his head.  “What I’m saying is we’re not sick.  At least, the three of us didn’t get sick.  It’s been a week since we drank the tea, something would have happened.  Even if they’re not infected with the virus, they could have just been bad.  Mold or whatever.  But there haven’t been any side effects.  These leaves aren’t only not infected, but they’re _good_.  They’re fresh.”

            Something clutched in Thomas’ chest.  “They got them recently.”

            “Probably,” Frypan shrugged.  “I mean tea leaves can last pretty long if kept in the right conditions, but the Scorch does not have those conditions.”

            “Which means they either traveled with them from somewhere else,” Newt started.

            “Or they got them close by,” Thomas continued for him.

            Almost in unison, the group turned to look down the path they’d been travelling and deeper into the Cliffs. 

            “They got them from here,” Thomas finished.  
  
***

 

            “Tommy, wait up,” Newt laughed, jogging to keep up with Thomas’ quick strides. 

            Thomas continued to walk, mind set on the task ahead.  For the first time in a while, he felt the air shift again.  Tension dropped and hopes lifted.  They had a plan.

            “Tommy,” Newt laughed again.

            Thomas turned to see Newt catch up to him, just behind his shoulder.  “Newt, this could actually lead to something.  Aren’t you the least bit excited?”  
            “Yes,” Newt said, side-stepping a stray twig in the road, “but it’s still going to be there whether we move now or five minutes from now.” 

            “This virus is moving faster than we know, so you can’t be sure of that.  I don’t want to take five minutes.”     

            Newt let another laugh out next to him.  “Alright, who’s taking shotgun?”

            “Take it.”

            Newt barked out a laugh next to him and grabbed his arm, spinning him.  “Tommy, breathe.”

            Thomas looked at the amusement written in Newt’s eyes.  He exhaled a laugh.  “Sorry, I just-”

            “I know.  You’re excited,” Newt smiled softly.  “It’s nice.”

            Thomas blinked at him, confused smile curling on his own face. “What?”

            Newt shrugged and his hand and gaze both trailed down Thomas’ arm to his wrist, resting there.  “You’ve just been so jittery and quiet.  We’ve all been.  It’s just nice to see this change.”

            Thomas felt the heat around his neck.  Newt was right, he was being ridiculous.  He was getting far too excited and far too hopeful far too quickly.  What if Jorge and Frypan were wrong?  What if the trees were still infected and they just happened to grab a few spare leaves that were healthy? What if the tea leaves came from somewhere else entirely?  What if they’d been travelling in the complete wrong direction?  They could get deeper into the Cliffs and find nothing.  They could get deeper and find that the trees and bushes are actually worse off.

            “Stop the wheels, Tommy,” Newt said, pulling him back.  “I didn’t mean to stifle your excitement.”

            “No, no,” Thomas shook his head.  “I know.  Just got ahead of myself.”

            Newt squeezed Thomas’ wrist.  “You’re allowed to be positive.”

            “Can’t you be the positive one?” Thomas laughed.  “It’s too much work.”

            Newt laughed and dropped his gaze to the ground.  “Let’s go check out the trees, Tommy.”

           

***  
  
            The ground became more and more uneven as the trucks rolled on.  Thomas was tossed about in the backseat, teeth gritted against the sudden aches that would blossom in his shoulder with each jerk of the truck.  And if he heard Frypan mutter an apology one more time from the seat in front of him, he was going to lose it.

            He gripped onto the seatbelt as they hit another dip in the ground.

            “Shuck, Fry. Are you looking for the holes?” Newt asked, gripping the door handle for stability.

            “I’m just following the road, man.”

            Thomas caught Newt’s eyes as he turned in the front seat to look back at him.  Newt rose his brows at him in question.  Thomas nodded to let him know he was fine before he turned to look out of the window again.

            The trees were much denser here and the dirt road was getting narrower. This was promising.  It meant they were getting closer to a possible answer.  Thomas let himself start to feel hopeful again.  He let that little bubble grow inside of his chest at the thought that maybe, just maybe, this time they’d be right.  This time, it’d be worth it.  Everything that lead them here would be worth it.

            He needed it to be worth it.

           

            A few hours later when the sun began to hover just above the tops of the trees, Thomas told Frypan to stop the truck.  The others slowed to a stop behind them as Thomas pushed his way out of the backseat.  His lower back ached from using his muscles to keep him steady in the swaying drive and being able to finally stretch them out was a relief Thomas never knew he’d need so badly.

            “Camping here for the night?” Frypan asked.

            “Yeah,” Thomas said, moving his arm out to the right a bit.  “I just want to look around a bit before it gets too dark though.”  He brought his arm back and slowly crossed it over his chest to the left.  He caught Newt’s eyes on the movement before Newt turned and walked off toward the others. 

            Thomas bit down.  He couldn’t understand why it bothered Newt so much.  He was being careful, he was following Harriet’s instructions.  Just because he wanted to do what he could to recover quicker didn’t mean he was being careless about it.

            “Thomas,” Vince called over. “What’s the plan?”

            Thomas let his arm rest back down at his side as he walked over to Vince and Jorge.  Something struck a chord in Thomas at a memory of their small group working together to plan out the next few steps they’d be taking.  “I’m thinking we get a small group to head out? Look around the area and see what we can find?”  
            “We’ll definitely need some people to stay back at the camp,” Jorge said, rubbing his face.  “Matt’s in no condition to be going anywhere, still.  Don’t tell her I said anything, but I don’t think Brenda is leaving his side any time soon.”

            “That’s fine,” Thomas shook his head.  “Let her stay back here with him.”

            “What if we get two groups out there?” Vince asked.  “We’d cover more ground before the sun sets.  I don’t think we should really be out in the darkness anyway.”

            “Couldn’t agree more,” Thomas nodded. “Why don’t you head a small group out on that side,” he pointed to the trees on their right and then switched to the left.  “I’ll bring a group out that way.”

            Vince nodded.  “Sounds fine to me.”

            “If it’s all the same to you,” Jorge said, “I’d like to stay back and keep an eye on Brenda and Matt.”

            “Of course,” Thomas agreed.  “We need to have some sort of signal or something in case anything happens.”

            “Really wish we had those walkies working,” Vince said, pushing the hair from his face.

            “Newt’s working on it, but until they’re running, there’s no point in thinking about them right now.  We need to find something we have now.”

            Vince’s brow twitched upward and he and Jorge exchanged a glance.

            “What?” Thomas asked.

            “Nothing,” Vince shrugged.  “You’re just…”

            “You’re growing into a leader, _hermano_ ,” Jorge finished for him with a clap on his left shoulder.

            Thomas huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “I don’t know what kind of leaders you guys have been following, but I’m just kind of making this up as I go.”

            “You’re doing just fine,” Vince nodded.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “You sound like proud parents. It’s weird. Can we just go?”

            Jorge and Vince barked out a laugh before turning to start gathering supplies.

            Thomas shook his head and walked over to Newt.

            “What’s going on?” Newt asked.

            “We’re gonna get a few groups together to check out the area.  Me, you and Harriet?”

            “I’ll go with you,” Frypan offered.

            Thomas looked up at him.  “Oh. Yeah, of course.  I mean, you can stay with Brenda and Matt if you want to. I don’t wanna force you to come.”

            Frypan shook his head. “I can’t sit here and watch stare at him like that.  I’ll come with you guys. At least I feel like I’m doing something then.”

            Newt offered a small smile to Frypan.

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded. “You’re in.”

            Harriet joined them, pulling her shotgun on her shoulder.  “We ready?”

            Thomas nodded.  “Just want to put a bag together again, I’ll be back in a second.”  He jogged over to Joe’s truck and grabbed his backpack from the trunk.  He rifled through it to make sure a flashlight, canteen and two of his knives were in there.  He linked his arm through the strap and hissed a breath through his teeth.

            “Put the bag down, Stick.”

            Thomas sighed as the footsteps approached, but dropped the bag to the floor. 

            “Let’s go,” she pointed to his shirt and jacket.

            “What?”

            “Come on,” she urged. “Let me take a look.  Trust me I’m not trying to check out your lack of muscles or whatever you have going on under there. Let me see your shoulder.”

            Thomas fought to roll his eyes, ignored the insult, and let his jacket fall to the floor next to his bag. He maneuvered awkwardly to pull his arm through the sleeve of the shirt, biting down against the ache.  When his right arm was out of the sleeve, he used his left to pull the shirt up and over his shoulder, leaving it half on. 

            Harriet stepped up to him, head tilted as she inspected his shoulder.  She pressed her fingers to certain spots on it, which sent a small bits of discomfort blooming.  “How was it on the ride?”

            “It was okay.  There was a lot of moving back and forth in the truck but it didn’t hurt too much.”

            “Alright.  I’m thinking about bracing it for the woods.”

            “Not the sling again, Harriet,” he shook his head, exasperated.

            “Did I say sling? Or did I say brace?” She asked, shooting a scathing look at him.  Something about the way Harriet could say more with her eyes than she did with her words struck Thomas.  There was power in her and he absently wondered why she kept such a reign on it.

            “Do what you need to.”  
            “Thank you.”

            He waited while she used whatever medical tape she had taken from the North Force to build a sort of brace that kept his shoulder and upper arm strapped to his chest.  “You couldn’t have just taken off the shirt.  Had to play modest and leave it on,” she ground out through her teeth as she continued trying to wrap the tape around him beneath the half of the shirt.

            Thomas rolled his eyes in the safety of the small space just outside of her vision.

            “There,” she finally said, standing back and eyeing her work.  “That should hold.”  
            “Great,” Thomas nodded. “Now if I trip, my arm will be nice and locked in place so I can’t catch my fall.”

            “If you caught your fall on that arm, it’d be out again anyway and you’d still fall on your face.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw.

            “Don’t trip.”

            “Thanks for the advice.”

            Harriet smirked up at him and he let his own mouth curl up into a small smile as well. He turned as he heard a throat-clearing cough.

            “We all finished up here?” Newt asked, eyeing the two of them.

            “Good to go,” Harriet nodded.

            Thomas reached over with his free arm and pulled the shirt back down over his chest and arm.  He stared at the awkwardly hanging empty sleeve.  “So, I basically just don’t have use of this arm for this whole search.”  
            “Basically, yeah,” Harriet said.  “But at least you’ll have use of it later when the time comes and you need it.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw.  “Well someone else has to carry the bag then.”  He turned to Frypan and Newt.  “I, personally, vote Harriet.”

            Frypan snorted.

            “She’s just trying to help, Tommy,” Newt sighed.

            “I know,” Thomas laughed.  “Newt, we’re kidding around.”

            Newt pressed his lips together and nodded. “We ready to go?”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Yeah.”

 

            The four of them separated off from Vince, Josh and Bernard and walked off toward their section of the trees. Thomas let Harriet lead the way as Frypan walked behind her, backpack on his shoulders.  Thomas followed Newt in the line and watched as he carefully avoided stray rocks and twigs, calculatingly choosing where to step.

            As they walked deeper into the woods, Thomas let his mind wander to the last day or two.  He reached forward at one point, hopping over a small rock to catch up to Newt, and tentatively wrapped his fingers around Newt’s wrist.

            Newt looked down at the touch and then up to Thomas before focusing back on the ground where he was stepping.  “What’s up, Tommy?”

            Thomas slinked his hands down and linked his fingers through Newt’s.  He released a breath when he realized Newt wasn’t pulling away.  So, this was okay, then.  This was okay.  Thomas allowed a small celebration inside of his chest before responding.  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

            “Hmm?”

            “Did I do something?”

            Newt stopped walking suddenly and Thomas halted a step ahead, turning a bit to look back at him.  “What do you mean?”

            Thomas looked back down at their linked fingers as he spoke.  “I don’t know.  You just seemed frustrated with me, I guess.”  He lifted his eyes to look up at Newt.

            Newt tilted his head.  “I did?”

            Thomas sighed.  “I don’t know, maybe I’m just reading too much into it.  Just, the whole thing two days ago with me trying to get the jacket on and then the sling and therapy and…” Thomas trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed.  He was reading way too much into Newt’s actions.  It probably meant nothing.  Why was he panicking suddenly?  
            Newt shook his head.  “I’m not frustrated with you, Tommy. I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired.  There’s been a lot of exploring the last few days and my leg is acting up and I didn’t get that much sleep the last few nights in the trucks.”

            “Yeah, I noticed,” Thomas looked up at him fully now.  “Every time I woke up you looked wide awake.”

            Newt shrugged. “I don’t know, I think my body is getting tired of the trucks, to be honest,” he laughed.  “Probably why my leg is aching so much too.”

            Thomas tried to push the guilt down in his chest.

            “It’s not you, Tommy,” Newt said, a small squeeze to his hand.  “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you’d done something.”

            “No, you didn’t,” Thomas shook his head.  He let the guilt grow.  He shouldn’t have even said anything.  “I’m just being weird, I guess. I thought maybe with everything with my shoulder it was getting annoying and frustrating and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t getting in the way.”

            “Getting in the way?”

            “Of…” Thomas trailed off.  He swallowed the word.

            “Of us?” Newt asked, brows raised.

            Thomas’ heart pounded against his chest.  “Told you it was stupid,” he laughed.

            Newt tilted his head again, eyes burrowing into Thomas’.  “It’s not stupid.”

            “I didn’t mean _it_ was.  I don’t mean to say we’re stupid.  Or that there’s a _we_ to even be stupid. Or an _it_.” Thomas worked his jaw over the words fighting to spill out.  He exhaled a small laugh and shook his head, looking at the ground.  “Wow, I am saying a lot of things right now.”

            He watched as Newt’s boots stepped the smallest bit closer to him.  Newt’s knees bent and suddenly Thomas’ head was being angled up in a quick small, soft kiss.  He let out a small breath as Newt’s forehead pressed against his, and he was suddenly aware that it was the first kiss they’d shared in the last two days.  Something unknotted in his chest. 

            “There can be,” Newt said softly, “if you want.”

            Thomas lifted his eyes to meet Newt’s, but his were still closed.  He suddenly felt like he was forcing this, that maybe Newt was only doing this for him and his stomach churned at the thought.  “There doesn’t need to be,” Thomas said.

            They stood in silence for another minute, foreheads still together until Newt pulled back and opened his eyes.  “Okay,” he nodded. 

            “Do you…” Thomas began and then stopped himself.  He swallowed and started over, deciding that maybe he didn’t want to know the answer.  “Are we okay then?”

            Newt nodded, brow furrowed.  “Yeah, Tommy.  We were never not okay.”

            Thomas huffed a small laugh.  “I think I just got ahead of myself.”

            Newt gave a small squeeze to his hand.  “Last few days have been kind of a mess around here,” he laughed. He paused and Thomas watched his gaze drop to the ground.  He looked like he was working something over in his head.  A minute later he looked back up to Thomas and spoke.  “I don’t want this to be a mess.”

            Thomas held his gaze as he nodded.  “Me neither.”

            Newt let out a small laugh.  “I guess it can’t really be helped given everything going on around us.”

            “Or just, us in general,” Thomas snorted.

            “Hey,” Newt laughed, knocking their hands into Thomas’ hip. “I’m not a mess.”  
            Thomas took a breath now that he could, let it flow through his lungs and open something up that had been closed off.  “Thanks for telling me I’m not either,” he laughed.

            Newt smiled wider now and Thomas nearly melted in it.  “You’re not a mess, Tommy.”

            “Thanks,” he rolled his eyes.  “That felt genuine.”  
            Newt curled his tongue in the corner of his mouth, seemed to work something over in his head.  His free hand reached out and wrapped around Thomas’ braced arm and pressed into his back, pulling him closer.

            Thomas let himself be brought forward into an awkward sort of hug as Newt’s mouth pressed against his jaw in a small kiss. “You’re a lot of things, Tommy,” he murmured against him.

            Thomas let his eyes fall closed, air filling his lungs as they loosened.

            “Hey!” Harriet’s voice called out suddenly far ahead of them.

            Thomas pulled back from Newt and turned to look over his shoulder at her.

            “You two want to help us or not? Sun’s not slowing down any time soon.”

            Frypan shrugged helplessly behind her.

            Thomas heard Newt’s small laugh behind him before he called back out to her.  “Sorry, we’ll be right there!”

            Harriet eyed them for another minute before she turned and started walking again, Frypan following.

            Thomas turned back to Newt.

            “We should get moving,” Newt said, letting his arm fall from Thomas’ side.

            Thomas nodded.

            “Are we okay?” Newt asked.

            “Yeah,” Thomas answered.  “Sometimes I spiral.  Sorry.”

            “Stop saying sorry,” Newt laughed, spinning him around and urging him forward. 

            “Fine,” Thomas said.  “But I’m gonna remind you of this next time I beat you for shotgun.”

            “’Next time,’ he says,” Newt laughed.

 

***  
  
            Harriet spread the small squares of sheets they’d marked up on the hood on Vince’s truck.  It displayed various dark green lines from where they spent the better part of the hour pressing leaves against it.  “It’s looking a lot greener,” Harriet shrugged, explaining the findings to the others.  “We might actually be onto something here.”

            Jorge folded his arms, nodding along.  “I must admit, I’m liking what I’m seeing.  It’s looking a lot better.”

            “Coupled with this,” Vince nodded toward the small cup in Bernard’s hand that was filled with tree sap.  It was still dark, definitely too dark to be healthy, but it was an improvement.  “Looks like we’re heading in the right direction.”

            Thomas allowed a small smile to curl up.  They were doing something right.  He was doing something right.  He wouldn’t let himself fall into that hope, not fully. Not yet.  But he’d allow a small bit of it.  “I think we should keep trying, keep exploring.”

            Vince eyed the setting sun.  “It’s getting dark, and I’m not keen on sending people out there without the light from the sun.  Besides, if it’s getting healthier as we get deeper into the Cliffs, we should move farther in before we explore again.”

            Thomas deflated.  “No, you’re right.”

            “Sorry, Thomas,” he shrugged.

            “No, no,” he shook his head.  “It’s smarter. I’m just excited that we finally have something to go on.”  
            “We all are,” Bernard nodded.  “Josh nearly started floating when he realized he wouldn’t have to wear the scarf much longer.”

            Josh muttered something under his breath beneath the scarf that earned him an elbow to the side.

            “Alright,” Thomas said.  “Let’s set up camp.”

            Harriet nodded.  “To the trucks.”

            “Hang on,” Thomas said.  “Why don’t we break out some of the tents?”

            The others looked around the circle for any objections.

            Thomas continued, “I just think it’s been too much time cramped up in the trucks.  My shoulder’s been bothering me from the positions in there and I think we’ve reached a point where we’re in the clear.  I don’t think it’d be too bad to spend the night actually camped.”

            “It’s beautiful up here, too,” Jorge said, eyeing the sky.  “I think we could all do with a bit of fresh air.”  
            “Well,” Vince said.  “As fresh as it’s gonna get for now.”  
            “Ball of positivity, you are,” Newt laughed.

            “Just being realistic,” Vince laughed.

            “Whatever,” Harriet shrugged, sliding her shotgun from her shoulder.  “I’m hungry.  What’s for dinner?”

 

            Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this light.  The warmth from the small, contained fire Josh built for them and the full feeling in his stomach as he finished his dinner (and Newt’s) left him comfortable and sleepy.

            He spent most of Bernard’s treehouse story dozing in and out as he leaned on Newt’s shoulder, Newt’s arm wrapped loosely around his own braced arm.  It was only when he heard his name murmured in his ear that Thomas realized he’d fallen asleep fully.  He pulled himself up, blinking himself awake.  Most of the group had already dispersed to sleep.  Frypan, Harriet and Jorge were wrapped up in a conversation about building structure. 

            “Bed, Tommy?”

            He turned around and blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he looked at Newt.  “Yeah, I’ll meet you in a minute.”

            Newt nodded as he pushed himself up, stretched out his leg, and ambled off to set up a spot for them.

            Thomas turned to the others.  “Sorry, can I borrow Harriet a minute?”

            She turned to look at him.  “I really think you should keep it on.”

            Thomas felt himself visibly deflate as he sighed.  “Harriet, please.”

            She took a breath.  “Fine.  Shirt.”  She pushed herself up and walked over as Thomas maneuvered his shirt up and over his shoulder and let her unbrace his arm.  Ignoring the sting from the medical tape peeling off of his skin, he felt relief as the blood rushed through his arm, pins and needles returning faintly.

            “Better?”

            “Much,” he nodded. “Thank you.”

            “Don’t overextend it.”

            “While I’m sleeping?” he asked, raising a brow.

            She eyed him before she turned away to join Jorge and Frypan again.

            Thomas decided not to ask.  He worked his arm back into the sleeve of the shirt as he walked over to the comforter Newt had set up.  “Wanna help me one more time?”

            “Shoulder?”

            Thomas nodded.

            Newt pushed himself up and walked over, placing one hand lightly on Thomas’ shoulder and the other at his forearm.  “How’s it feeling?”

            Thomas snorted. “Better now that it’s out of that awful brace.”

            A muscle flickered in Newt’s jaw as he helped Thomas slowly raise his arm out to the side.

            Thomas sighed.  “I know she’s doing it to help,” he said.  “But that doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.”

            The muscle feathered again.

            “What, Newt?”

            Newt shook his head.

            “Go ahead,” Thomas urged, bringing his arm back down.  “What is it?”

            Newt took a breath before he looked up to meet Thomas’ eyes.  A moment passed before Newt seemed to come to a decision.  “Come here,” he nodded.

            Thomas furrowed his brow, but followed Newt to Joe’s truck. 

            Newt opened the passenger door and pulled his knapsack from the floor of the truck onto the seat.  He rummaged around in it before unearthing a small bundle.

            Thomas recognized it instantly as his eyes fell on the small folded note that simply said “N.”

            Newt swallowed.  He opened his mouth to talk before he closed it and just handed the package over to Thomas.

            Thomas took it and looked up at Newt.  “Newt, you don’t have to-”

            “Open it.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            Newt nodded down at the package.

            “Are you sure?” Thomas suddenly felt very invasive. 

            He only nodded again.

            Thomas slowly unfolded the bits of cloth.  Inside was something black strapped together with metal rods.  He furrowed his brow.

            “It’s a brace,” Newt answered on a choked breath.

            Thomas looked up at him to see something hard written on his face.

            Newt reached forward to the small note and unfolded it, holding it out for Thomas.

            “Newt…”

            “Go ahead.”

            Thomas looked back down at the paper. 

 

            _N –_

_I know it’s not much, but Fran says the brace will get you through for now.  She wanted me to give you this.  When we make it back, she’d very much like to try to mend it if you’re up for it.  No pressure._

  
            Thomas reread the note before he looked back up at Newt.  He worked his jaw over the silence, but wasn’t sure how to respond.

            Newt took the brace and note from Thomas, wrapped it back up, and put it in the bag.

            Thomas shook his head.  “I don’t…” He looked back down at the bag as Newt closed it and tossed it to the floor.  “Why don’t you-”

            “It is what it is, Tommy.  A bit late for the brace on my end, but it’s appreciated all the same.  You, on the other hand,” he eyed Thomas’ shoulder.

            “It can’t be too late if Fran says she can hel-”

            “Wear your brace, Thomas,” Newt said.  “Let it heal right.”  Newt shut the door to the truck. 

            “And yours?” Thomas asked.

            “It’s different.” Newt folded his arms across his chest.

            Thomas tried to work out, again, how to ask.  Somehow, he felt it still wasn’t his place.  It was before he was around, before he could even remember.  If Newt was going to tell him, it should be on his terms. 

            “Right,” Newt nodded.  “Sleep, yeah? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

            “Sure,” Thomas nodded.  Something pained inside of him, but he wouldn’t push it.  Maybe Newt didn’t want him to know.

            Thomas followed Newt back to the comforter and settled down on it, lying back.  With the cover of the trees, the nights were dark in the Cliffs.  Through the bits of branches, Thomas could just make out the navy sky above.  Somehow, there was no sight of stars here, not like there was all those nights in the open Scorch. 

            There was hope up here in the Cliffs.  There was something to aim toward, something to look for, but Thomas couldn’t help the sting in his chest at the memory of the nights in the small broken town.  It was an odd nostalgia, missing something that seemed so simple at the time. He wondered if Newt thought about those nights as much as he did.

            He turned his head to the side to look at Newt lying next to him, facing the sky.  His face seemed set on something, brow furrowed and eyes caught on something Thomas couldn’t see.

            “Are you actually gonna get sleep tonight?” Thomas asked.

            Newt’s eyes shifted and cleared as he was brought back from whatever moment he’d been lost in.  He turned to look at Thomas.  “I will if you do.”

            Thomas watched him for a moment more.  There was something he was missing, something they were both missing, and an ache settled in Thomas’ chest. 

            “You remember what we were talking about earlier?” Newt asked suddenly.

            Thomas furrowed a brow.

            “In the woods? About there being an _it_? Or an _us_?”

            Thomas swallowed.  “Mhm.”

            “You said something afterward, about how you sometimes spiral.”

            Thomas nodded, not wanting to interrupt Newt with mindless spoken affirmations.

            “Well, sometimes I do, too.” Newt swallowed.  “But I don’t want you to think it’s about you.”

            Thomas waited in the silence, let the words sink into him.

            Newt continued. “Sometimes my thoughts can get away from me, but it’s nothing to do with you, okay? I need you to know that.”

            “Okay,” Thomas said, nodding. 

            “I mean it.  I didn’t mean to make you worry earlier that something was wrong.  That maybe you’d done something wrong.”  
            Thomas nodded again and felt the tension slowly drain out of him.  He didn’t realize how much he thought it was him until Newt confirmed it wasn’t.

            “It’s never going to be you, okay?”

            Thomas worked it over in his head.  “You know you can talk to me, though, right?  When you do start spiraling?”

            Newt’s eyes shifted between Thomas’.  “I know.”

            Thomas wanted to push.  He wanted to ask.  He wanted to know why he wouldn’t, if Newt knew he could. 

            Thomas swallowed.  “Okay.”

            Newt turned back to face the sky again.

            Thomas waited, watching Newt’s face in the darkness.  He wondered how it was possible to be so physically close to a person, but to somehow feel a distance.  He didn’t know how to pull Newt back, how to bridge that gap without pushing or overstepping.

            Instead, he shifted a bit closer to Newt, tilted his head so it gently pressed against Newt’s shoulder, and he linked their hands between them.  “Get some sleep tonight.”

            He felt a small squeeze at his hand in response, and as Thomas drifted off to vague blurs of clouded dreams and muffled memories, he distantly noted the small, shaking breaths next to him, broken over a wall Thomas couldn’t breach. 

            But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Schedule is back to normal don't worry!  
> Also me: *still posts a day late*
> 
> Ended up going to a concert yesterday. Whoops. Anyway here you go!!
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Shoulder Therapy - Thomas is out of the sling! He's been working out his shoulder for the past week. Slowly getting better.
> 
> 2\. Tea Leaves and Colors - I did far too much research on tea leaves this weekend. I know more about tea now than I ever have before. Amazing. Hahaha Although, I'm not QUITE sure if the colors thing works, but....have it anyway.... 
> 
> 3\. Newt and Thomas - Thomas is feeling very insecure. He notices Newt's frustrations recently and, like anyone in a new ~relationship~, he worries it's something he's done. Poor Thomas is in panic mode, but Newt will shut it down quickly. Of course it's not Thomas. <3
> 
> 4\. Thomas' Hope - He's excited!! He's so hopeful finally! I love happy and positive Thomas. 
> 
> 5\. Joe's Gift - Here you have it. Perhaps this hints at some conversations Joe and Newt have had in the past. Newt appreciates it, it's a great gesture, but there are for more personal reasons he refuses not to wear it. That doesn't mean Thomas shouldn't. Healing correctly is important. Newt needs Thomas to know that.
> 
> 6\. I'm sorry for the ending of this chapter. Things get tough, sometimes more for one than the other. But always remember that as long as they still have each other, they'll get through. <3
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all for your patience as always!! So thrilled that you're keeping up, even when my updates are delayed. I'm sorry for that. I swear it's not on purpose. I'm just gonna stop talking about my schedule because I feel like it jinxes it hahaha.
> 
> Other things in the works too! Exciting stuff ahead.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	25. On Infection and Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Helps Newt Conquer a Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: description of infected wound. 
> 
> If you’d like to skip this, begin after the three asterisks.

 

 

            “Thomas! Thomas!”

            Thomas felt his body stir and opened his eyes abruptly to see Newt hovering over him in the darkness.

            “Thomas, get up!”

            “What happened?” he exhaled, pulling himself from the cottoned haze of sleep.

            “It’s Matt.”  
            Thomas pushed himself up, ignoring the throb of pain in his shoulder.  He grabbed Newt’s hand and let him pull him up and the two of them ran over to where most of the camp was already huddled around Matt’s comforter.  Brenda and Harriet skittered into the group a second after him, Jorge trailing.

            “I don’t know,” Josh was repeating from behind Vince, scarf pulled down around his neck.  “He just started choking in his sleep.  Bernie rolled him onto his side and he threw up and cleared his airways, but…” he shook his head rapidly.  “He won’t stop shaking and he’s not making sense.”

            “Not making sense?” Thomas looked down at Matt, barely registering Josh’s next few words.  Matt was still pale, face slick with sweat as he panted breaths out.  His eyes were heavily shadowed and is lips near white.

            Harriet slammed to her knees next to him grabbing his wrist to check his pulse, but there was no need.  Thomas could see it hammering away in his neck.  A broken shudder of a breath came from over his shoulder.

            “We need to get him in cold water immediately,” Harriet said, back of her hand against his cheek.  “He’s searing.”

            “Cold?” Thomas asked.  The bottles they had were lukewarm at best. 

            “Just get what we have!”

            Thomas and Brenda nearly trampled each other running to Jorge’s truck. Brenda jumped onto the tire first and hurdled the gate. The sound of the impact her boots made was like a bullet.  She tossed down bottle after bottle to Thomas before Newt came running over.

            “I need a towel!” He yelled.  “And give me one of those sheets!”

            “You take these!” Brenda called back, tossing two more water bottles down to him.  “I’ll be over with the sheet.”

            “And the towel!” Newt called over his shoulder as he ran back.

            Thomas spun, balancing the four bottles in his arms, and followed Newt.  His heart was pounding nearly as fast as Matt’s had been.

            They got back to the group as Harriet paused in lifting Matt’s shirt off of him.  “Shit!”

            “What?” Josh’s voice cracked.

            “His shoulder wound reopened at some point.  The blood dried and the shirt is stuck to him.”

            Voices rung out with ideas, but it wasn’t until Frypan handed over a pair of scissors that Harriet was moving again, cautiously cutting the shirt from Matt around the piece that stuck to him.

            “Why is his skin so red?” Bernard panicked.

            “It’s infected,” Vince answered.

            There was a collective step back from the group.  Brenda skidded back to the circle, arms full of a sheet and two towels and was immediately yanked back by Jorge.

            “Not the Flare,” Harriet corrected.  “It’s a regular infection.  It’s swollen.”  She cut the last bit of cloth away and tossed it aside. The group stared for half a second at the monstrosity that was torn apart on Matt’s back.

            And then it was chaos.

            Harriet shouted out instructions as the others scrambled to follow through.  If anyone had doubts on Harriet’s knowledge, they didn’t express them.  Thomas emptied a bottle of water over one of the towels and rang it out over the other before handing it to her. She immediately folded it and draped it over Matt’s forehead.  She turned in time for Brenda and Thomas to collectively ring out the now-wet sheet between them. They unraveled it and handed it to her as she draped it over Matt and worked his jeans and shoes off.

            Newt and Frypan had run off to gather whatever food they would be able to get into his system.  By the look of the empty bile, he hadn’t been eating, which Harriet explained probably kept his energy too low to fight off the infection.

            Bernard tilted a water bottle into Matt’s mouth, trying to rehydrate him as Brenda rolled up a new towel to replace the now hot once that was on Matt.   

            “My blood,” Thomas suddenly exhaled.  “My blood. Use my blood.”

            “What?” Harriet snapped, barely sparing him a glance.

            “It got the virus out of-”

            “Thomas, that’s not how this works,” Vince said, pulling him away.  “This isn’t the Flare. This is a human infection.”

            “But if it cured that-”

            “We don’t have the supplies to extract whatever it is from your blood that we need and even if we did none of us would know how to-”

            “Didn’t she explain it to you in case something like this happened?”

            “In case something like what?” Vince’s voice raised.  “In case she got shot?”

            Jorge stepped between the two, pushing Thomas backward.

            “I didn’t mean-”

            “Leave it, Thomas,” Jorge said softly as Vince ran a hand through his hair somewhere behind him.

            Thomas swallowed and tried to bring his focus back to Matt.  He shook his head.  “There has to be something.”  He looked around the camp to where Fry was skidding back on his knees with soggy dehydrated fruit in his hands and then to Josh starting a fire beneath a small basin that Brenda filled with two more bottles of water.

            Matt still panted below them, eyes half lidded.

            “His body has been working overtime to fight the infection and with that lack of energy to push it, it’s falling apart,” Harriet spoke as she worked and Thomas couldn’t tell if she was informing them or talking herself through it.  “His organs are inflamed trying to keep up and his blood is clotted all over.  There’s no oxygen getting to the organs.”

            “His blood pressure is going to drop,” Jorge added.

            “If we don’t clear some of these blood vessels fast enough,” Harriet said over her shoulder as she fanned out the sheet trying to create a breeze around him.

            “Gunn!”

            The group froze as they looked down at Matt. 

            Matt stared directly back at Thomas.  “Gunn,” he breathed.  “You’re safe.”

            Thomas swallowed and shifted his eyes.  “Yeah, buddy,” he nodded.  “Yeah, I’m here.”

            “Where’s Amanda?”

            Thomas looked around the group, silently pleading for assistance.

            “We need to drain the infection,” Vince said low.

            “How?” Harriet asked looking up at him.  For the first time, Thomas saw her face clearly and the fear that laced it.  “I don’t know how to do that.”  
  
            “Amanda!” Matt called out again.

            Josh and Brenda lifted the basin off of the fire now, letting the water cool to sterilize their makeshift dressing.

            “Harriet, what do you need?” Newt asked over another shout from Matt.

            Harriet looked back down at Matt, breathing almost as fast.  “Uh, okay, okay, I need something sharp.”

            Thomas immediately reached behind him, flipped the dagger and held it handle out to Harriet. “What else?”

            “I need that boiled water,” she said, steadying her breath, “and I need squares of a sheet and gloves.”

            “Gloves and sheet,” Newt said, jogging off.

            Thomas side-stepped Frypan where he continued to try to force food into Matt’s mouth. 

            “Give it,” Brenda said, hand outstretched. 

            Thomas pressed the handle of his knife into her palm and waited as she dipped it into the boiled water. “Go!” She yelled before she’d even passed the dagger back.

            When Thomas got back to them, Harriet was pulling on gloves and Newt was cutting up squares of fabric from a sheet.  Jorge grabbed a few of them and ran them over to Brenda and Josh who worked on sterilizing them.

            Harriet instructed Frypan and Bernard over Matt’s cries to hold off on the food and water.  She waited a full minute – possibly the longest minute Thomas had ever sat through – before turning Matt onto his side again. 

            Thomas had a better look at the wound now.  There were still bits of the fabric from his shirt stuck to the dried coagulated blood just behind Matt’s shoulder.  Scabs littlered the wound in bits and pieces between bubbles of built up fluid.

            Jorge jogged back with a few squares of the sheet in his hand, now wet from the boiled water.

            Harriet grabbed one and began to softly brush at the remnants of the shirt.  She dumped a bit of water from a bottle over his cut, earning a choked gasp from Matt.

            Thomas knelt in front of him.  “Hey, Matt.”

            Matt lifted his eyes to Thomas’ neck and then dropped his gaze again, closing his eyes.

            “Should I be getting him to talk?” Thomas asked.

            “I don’t know,” Harriet shook her head, eyes set on the project in front of her.  “I don’t know if it’s better to keep him awake or let him pass out.  Where’s that dagger?”

            Thomas swallowed and stepped back around Matt.  He crouched next to Harriet and handed her the dagger.  He watched her angle the tip of it by a swollen yellow bubble that stuck out from the wound.

            She took a steadying breath and held the square of the sheet close to the wound before the pressed the blade down.

            Thomas felt his stomach dip and fold in on itself. He fought the bile back down as he watched the yellow pus drip out from the scab.  He heard a retching sound and turned to see Bernard being dragged off as he stumbled hunched over, covering his mouth. 

            Harriet continued to dab the pus away with the sterilized sheets, continuing from one bubble to the next.  The smell extended across them and everyone seemed to be fighting to keep their insides in check. Harriet turned to the side to shut her eyes and exhale, steadying herself, before she turned back and picked up where she left off.  “We’re gonna need something to act as an antiseptic,” she said, throat tight.

            “Honey,” Frypan answered, muffled from behind his hand.

            “What?” Thomas asked, his own hand over his nose.

            “Honey can act as an antiseptic.  I used to give it to the Medjacks all the time.”

            There was a quick scuffle and Thomas looked up to see Newt dashing to Jorge’s truck.

            “Matt, you still with me?” Harriet asked.

            “Is it bad?” he breathed.  “How bad is it?”

            Thomas exchanged a look with Harriet before he answered.  “It’s gonna be fine, Matt. We just have to clean it.”

            Matt panted a few more breaths in response.

            At least he recognized them now.  That had to be a good sign.

            Newt returned with a small clear jar filled with what Thomas could only assume was honey from the North Force supplies.

            Thomas pulled on a glove and took the dagger from Harriet.  He ran back to Brenda and Josh and held the blade in the boiling water for a minute.

            “How is he?” Josh asked.

            “I think he’s better,” Thomas said, eyes still on the blade.  “Can’t tell for sure.”  He didn’t look up at either of them when he turned to run back to Harriet.

            She used the dagger to scoop out some of the honey and layer it onto Matt’s wound, the agonized screams and gasps a soundtrack to the others slowly coming to a pause in their movements. 

            By the time that she finished spreading a thick layer of honey on his wound, replaced the dressing, and reapplied fresh wet sheets and towels to his body, the sun was up in the sky and everyone was slumped around the camp.  There was a collective sigh of relief once it was clear that Matt was okay again, but it was clouded.  They all knew they got lucky this time.

            The last sound from the morning’s commotion was a small, exhaled apology from Matt before he drifted to sleep.

 

***  
  
            The cleanup took the better part of the morning, the other bit of it spent changing the sheets around Matt, boiling the others free of infection, and moving him into the back of Vince’s truck.

            Then they were off.

            Thomas was determined to find where the North Force had been getting their supplies.  The tea leaves, the honey, anything. If it was that fresh, it had to be close by.  They needed this.  They needed a win. 

            Thomas had spent plenty of time leaning over the hood of Vince’s truck with him and Harriet, tracing over the taped up faded lines of their map, trying to draw out the Arka Cliffs as much as they could while working only on what little knowledge they had of cartography.  One snapped pencil, two apologies, and an unfortunate fist-meets-hood scenario later, they’d figured out a route worth taking.  One that would hopefully lead to a change.  One that would lead to freedom.

            Freedom.  That’s what Thomas had spent so much time searching for after all.  He said before that he was tired of running, and while that rang true, he couldn’t help the feeling that he was still running.  Still chasing something, still racing against time. It was a constant rush and all he want-

            Thomas’ body flung forward in the seat, knees banging into the back of Frypan’s seat, face smashing into the headrest.  The car settled back on itself from being halted so abruptly and a moment later there was a light bump to the back of the truck as well.  Thomas peeled himself from the driver’s seat and turned around to see Vince’s truck pressed against theirs just slightly, Jorge’s skidding to a stop behind them.

            “Holy shit…”

            Thomas turned at Newt’s hushed words and he leaned forward to peer around the front seats to look out of the windshield.  It took everything in Thomas not to utter the same sentiment.  In front of the truck, in the middle of the rocky dirt road, stood a deer – antlers bent at odd angles, a scar along its neck down to its chest, and one eye completely missing.

            These things aside, the deer seemed…normal.  Thomas didn’t have much recollection of them, never having seen one in person, as far as he knew, but it stood tall as one, still as one.  It wasn’t like the bird.  There was no black, spoiled blood dripping.  There was a small dried trail of red against the deer’s snout where its eye had been, but other than that, it looked normal, healthy.  It looked alive.

            As if to prove him right, the deer moved.  It stepped slowly once, then twice, then continued on its way into the woods.  Thomas watched until it’s small brown tail disappeared behind the tree trunks.

            “Whoa,” Frypan exhaled, breaking the silence.

            Newt turned from his window where he’d been watching the deer.  He looked at Fry and then back at Thomas.  “Did that just happen?”

            Thomas leaned back to look around Newt’s seat into the woods, but there was no sign of the deer anymore.  He sat back up.  “We all saw that, right?”

            “Yes,” Frypan and Newt said in unison.

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded.  “Wow.”

            “Wow,” Newt echoed.

            “Wow,” Frypan finished.

            “How is it alive?” Newt asked.

            Thomas shook his head. “I have no idea.”

            “Is it infected?” Frypan asked.

            “I don’t think it was,” Thomas shook his head.  “There was no bla-”

            There was a yell behind them then and all three spun in their seats to look back into Vince’s truck. 

            Vince’s head was out of the window, calling out to them.

            Thomas lowered his window.

            “-ren’t we moving? You boys okay?”

            “Yeah!” Thomas called back, waving a hand out the window.

            “They didn’t see it?” Newt asked.

            “I guess the truck was blocking them,” Thomas shrugged.  “Frypan, keep driving.  We’ll tell them when we get out.  If there was a deer here, I wanna see what else there is deeper.”

            Frypan shifted gears and the truck jostled along again.

            Newt eyed Thomas from the front seat.

            “What?” Thomas asked.

            “Just wondering why you’re crazy,” Newt laughed as he turned to the front. 

            “Oh, come on,” Thomas chided.  “You’re not the least bit curious?”

            “I am,” Newt admitted.  There was something else on his face as the corner of his mouth quirked up.  Hope.

            Thomas smiled a bit before leaning back against the shaking door.

            “Sit normal,” Frypan said at the same time as Newt said, “put your seatbelt on.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face, but swiveled himself to sit on the seat and buckle the strap across him.  He supposed he could do without another one-on-one close up to the vinyl driver’s seat.

            The drive continued without interruption, save for one pit stop to fill Vince’s truck with a bit more gas, take a small break for themselves, and get back on the road.  There were no more signs of life.  There were still trees, bushes and grass, but Thomas was finding it tiresome to keep searching for any movement among them.  As his eyesight wandered, so did his thoughts.

            He thought about Newt’s brace that Joe gave him.  He thought about the emphasis Newt had put on Thomas’ shoulder and how important it was to him that Thomas heal correctly.  Thomas knew there was something underlying that he was missing, but even if he didn’t know the details of the past, he knew the details of now.  He knew the way Newt’s eyes shifted, the way he suddenly found a place to move or be.  He knew the way Newt wouldn’t look him in the eye.  He knew those details.  And he knew them enough to know not to pry for the rest.

            So, instead, Thomas focused on his own shoulder.  Aside from the quick throb of pain after first waking up, there wasn’t much else he’d registered.  Yes, he’d been busy with Matt all morning, and then cleaning, and then mapping.  Some distant part of him knew the effect adrenaline could have on a person’s pain receptors.  Sometimes it could push it right out.  But even now as he jostled back and forth in the truck, there was only the dull ache that came with the movement.  There was no stretch, no sharp shooting pins and needles down his arm.  He allowed himself the smallest of victory smiles.  He was healing.  And if he could heal, so could the others.  He made a mental note to pass this thought onto Newt later.  It might make him a bit less tense, lessen the weight on hi-

            Thomas flinched as the car’s wheel hit a dip in the road and mud splattered up the truck and into his still wide-open window.  He spat and wiped the few splatters off that reached his face.  A crack of laughter broke from the front seat and he looked up to see Frypan watching him in the rearview mirror and Newt turned around in his seat to look at him.  Thomas clenched his jaw and turned the crank to roll the window up.

            “Nice, Tommy,” Newt laughed.

            “Sit normal,” Thomas bit back.

            Newt let another snicker out before he turned around and continued watching the road ahead. 

            Thomas rolled his eyes, but he let the smile come through, too.  He didn’t care.  As long as Fry and Newt were laughing, it was worth it.

            They drove until the sun set.

            And then they drove an hour more in the trail of the single headlight.

           

            Sometime later, Newt turned in his seat to look at Thomas over his shoulder with a pained expression.  “Thomas,” he started.

            Thomas took a breath and let it out through his nose.  “I know.”

            Frypan slowed the truck to a much more delicate stop than earlier.

            Thomas did a quick survey of their surroundings through the light from the single headlight before he pushed his way out of the truck.  He arched his back, stretched his legs out and even allowed a small roll of his shoulders and neck.  Yes, the pain was definitely becoming smaller, more manageable. 

            “I’ll start setting up camp,” Newt yawned.

            Thomas nodded.  “Gonna check on Matt.”

            “Good that.”

            Thomas turned and jogged up to Frypan’s side.  “How’re you doing, Fry?”

            “I’m good, Thomas.”

            “Are you, really?”  Thomas asked, eyeing him.

            Frypan offered a small smile.  “I’ve been better, definitely.  But I’m good.  I’m the last person here you need to worry about, trust me.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Gonna worry about you anyway.”

            “I know you are,” Frypan laughed.  “Get that shoulder healed and we’ll talk about me.”

            Thomas sighed.  “You too?”

            “Me too,” he laughed.

            They stopped next to Vince’s truck as Vince and Harriet slowly loaded Matt out from the backseat, still wrapped in a damp sheet.  Thomas and Fry stepped up to grab Matt’s legs and help lift him and carry him to the side.  Bernard and Brenda rushed to spread a comforter out and they lowered him down.

            “I hate this,” Matt laughed softly.

            Thomas hated how weak his voice sounded.  “It’s alright, you’ll be better soon.”  Even more than Matt’s, he hated how weak his own voice sounded as he said that.

            Bernard settled onto the comforter with a canteen in hand.  “Come on, Matt,” he urged.  “Try to sit up a bit.”

            Thomas reached down and wrapped an arm beneath Matt’s back.  He could feel the sweat pooling, but pushed his focus instead to lifting him to sit up.  “You good?”

            “Mmm,” Matt groaned, pale face screwed up.

            “Drink,” Bernard commanded.  Matt reached for the canteen but Bernard swatted his hand away.  “Don’t be a stick.”

            Matt offered a small laugh and tilted his head back to let Bernard pour the water in.

            Thomas kept his arm steady at Matt’s back, letting him rest against it. Part of him, the smallest part of him, started to hope.  Part of him started to feel better. 

            Matt choked on the water.

            “You alright?” Thomas asked, pulling him forward to sit him up straighter.

            “Yeah,” he choked out, nodding.  “Just a lot at once.”

            Bernard snorted as Matt made a vulgar gesture.

            “I see you’re feeling chipper enough,” Newt said as he joined them.

            Thomas followed Matt’s gaze to where Newt stood over them.

            “Just really wanna sleep,” Matt laughed.

            Thomas turned back and looked at Bernard for instruction.

            “Yeah, lay him back.”

            Matt groaned as Thomas helped Bernard slowly lower him back down.  “I feel like that day Gunn made the nectar.”

            Bernard snorted.  “You were a lot easier to take care of then, trust me.”

            “Do I wanna know?” Thomas asked.

            “No.”

            “We’ll have to get him to make that when we get him back,” Matt coughed out.

            “That’s a night I might pass on,” Thomas laughed.

            Matt coughed again, rolling onto his side.

            Thomas lunged forward to help pull him fully over as Matt spat out a trail of thick, white saliva.  He was quite sure it shouldn’t look like that, but it had to be better than the blood he was spitting up two days ago.

            Matt rolled over onto his back again, wheezing a breath in.  “I swear, if I die from a god damn boring human infection in this messed up world, I am coming back and haunting every single person.”

            Thomas laughed as he stood up, giving room to Frypan to settle in closer.  He turned and walked off toward Harriet and Vince, doing an inventory of the aid supplies from the North Force.  “You have any of that alcohol left? Just wanna…” Thomas finished his sentence by giving his hands a shake.

            “Right,” Harriet said.  She flipped a small bottle around as Thomas held out a hand. 

            The cool liquid dripped into his palm and he rubbed it over his hands and wrists, willing whatever infection Matt might have to not be contagious.  “I think I wanna take a look around,” Thomas said.  “We drove pretty far in today.  I bet the leaves are healthier here and if that’s the case I wonder if we can find something that might slow whatever it is in Matt’s system.”

            “It’s not a case of slowing it,” Harriet shook her head.  “It’s narrowing his blood vessels.”

            “Maybe there’s something that can do that.”

            Harriet shrugged.  “Don’t even know what that would be.”  
  
            “Thomas, I’m all for it,” Vince nodded.  “At first light, we’ll go out.”

            Thomas felt his shoulders deflate a bit.  “He’s feeling awful, Vince.”

            “Yeah, and he’s still gonna be feelin’ awful in a few hours.  There’s no sense in sending any of us out into the woods in this darkness.”

            Thomas looked up to the sky.  There was the soft glow from the moon and whatever stars were visible, but other than that, Vince was right.  It was too dark, especially beneath the cover of the trees. 

            “Wait ‘til morning,” Vince nodded.

            Thomas turned his head to look over at Matt, where he lay still shaking between Bernard and Frypan who seemed to be taking turns adjusting the cool sheet or wet towel.  Thomas felt a small brush against his knuckles and then pulled his focus back to the noise coming somewhere past Vince’s truck.

            Josh and Jorge were both hovering over one of the doors of Jorge’s truck, blowtorch in hand, flame spitting out from it.

            “What’re they up to?”

            “Jorge mentioned fixing the windows that were blown out from the sandstorm a while back.  I think they’re finally attaching the grates Josh picked up.”

            Thomas took a step forward but Newt grasped his arm.

            “Maybe it’s best not to be around that,” Newt laughed.

            Thomas glanced back once as Josh pushed the goggles above his head to yell something back in Spanish at Jorge, who was also yelling in Spanish at him.

            “Right,” Thomas nodded. “Food?”

            “Food.”

 

            Matt’s groans had quieted as the day wore on, faded to a lone mumble every so often.  Thomas and Newt sat against the opposite wheel on Vince’s truck, giving Matt space and privacy.  Thomas didn’t know how much he could stand to look at him suffer anymore anyway.  He didn’t like the idea of sitting around while they could be doing something.  While they could be looking for something to help him. Thomas instead focused on steadying his bouncing leg.

            “Here, want the rest of this?” Newt asked, handing over the remains of his dinner. “Stomach’s still queasy from earlier.”

            Thomas eyed the mostly whole dinner.  “Do you want something different?”

            Newt held up his canteen in response.  “Fine with water for now.”  
  
            Something turned in Thomas’ stomach as he took the food from Newt. After using those bottles on healing Matt, they’d dropped a significant amount on their supply. 

            “How’s your shoulder?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Hasn’t hurt all day, actually.”

            Newt nodded, swallowing the gulp of water he took.  “You should brace it tonight.” Even as Thomas began to speak, Newt held up a hand and continued.  “Doesn’t have to be a full body brace.  Just to keep it stable in case of impact.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow.  “What kind of impact am I gonna come across while I sleep?”

            “Forget it.”

            “I’m gonna wear it!” Thomas hurried to add.  “Don’t worry.”

            Newt only sighed in response, twisting and untwisting the cap of his canteen.

            Thomas let his stomach continue to twist just as much.  He forced the food down to stave off the hunger, each swallow rougher than the last.  They sat the rest of the time in silence.

            “I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” Newt sighed after a while.  “Exhausted.”

            Thomas nodded as he watched Newt walk off.  He let the unease curl up inside of him until he couldn’t take it anymore.  He wasn’t going through this tension again.  He used the truck to lift himself up and started toward Harriet. 

            She looked up at him from the cards in her hands.

            “You have a minute?”

            “Depends.”

            “I need you to brace my shoulder.”

            She rose an eyebrow and sat back.  “Well this is a twist.”

            Thomas ran his tongue along his teeth, but kept quiet.

            Harriet tossed the cards aside, told Brenda and Jorge she’d be back, and led Thomas over to Vince’s trunk.  She pulled the spool of medical tape out and gestured to Thomas’ shirt.

            He pulled his arm free from the white sleeve again and let her get started, ignoring the small twinge he got from the pressure.  “I just need it tight enough to keep it from shifting on impact.”

            She lifted her gaze slightly to eye him in question.

            Thomas let a small laugh out. “Newt’s words.”

            Harriet snorted, dropping her gaze back to the project.  “That explains it.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “You actually coming to me and asking for a brace.”

            Thomas decided it was probably better not to respond.  He stood in silence as she worked, the only noise coming from the tape as she continued to unravel it. 

            “You know,” she started suddenly, voice soft.  “I remember this one day back in the Spring.  It was one of those relaxing days where everything seemed to be going right, for once.  I’m sure you know how rare those days were,” she smiled.

            Thomas watched her work.

            “Everyone seemed fine in their jobs and there were no issues that I needed to oversee or take care of.  It wasn’t a box day and there were no sick girls to tend to, so that left Sonya free.”  She tore another long strip of tape free and pressed it down against the makeshift brace she’d made to keep his blade from moving.  “The two of us spent the day outside.  It was warm – well, as warm as it could be there – and we just walked.  Talked to each other, if you could call it that.”

            Thomas rose a brow down at her.

            “We wanted to catch up with each other, get to know each other, but neither of us had memories, so there was no real way of doing that.”  She stood up and eyed the brace before leaning back in to add more tape.  “So, we made them up.  It was Sonya’s idea and that was the thing.  It was cheesy and stupid and pointless because none of it was real, but it was Sonya’s idea.  It made her happy to make these stories, these memories.  I didn’t get it at first, you know? But I just went along with it for her.  I didn’t realize that by making up those memories, we were making real ones.  And you can laugh all you want, but it was worth every ridiculous made up memory about farms and oceans.  If only to see her smile, to see her relax.”

            Harriet faded to a stop as she finished bracing Thomas’ shoulder.  She stood back and then lightly added some pressure to Thomas’ shoulder by pushing it back and then pulling it forward.  “Is it shifting?”

            “No,” Thomas shook his head.  “Feels pretty stable.”  
  
            Harriet nodded as she turned to start putting the supplies away again. “Should hold.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at her.  He needed to reassure her that they’d get Sonya back, that they were getting all of them back.

            “You share that story with anyone and I shatter your shoulder instead.  Understood?”

            Thomas blinked.  “Loud and clear.”  Thomas took her silence as his cue to exit. He walked across the silent camp, noticing most of the others already having gone to their respective blankets to sleep.

            He reached his area next to Joe’s truck to find Newt fiddling with the hand radios again.  “Thought you were tired?”

            Newt shrugged, eyes still set on the radio in his hand.

            Thomas swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape as he sat down next to him.  He lifted his white shirt up and over his right shoulder and let it hang diagonally again.

            Newt’s hands stuttered on the radio.

            “Sorry I’ve been such a shank about this,” Thomas tried.

            Newt snorted. “You sound ridiculous when you say that.”

            “Made you laugh though.”

            Newt finally looked up, eyes snagging a bit before reaching Thomas’ shoulder.  “I see you changed your mind.”

            Thomas pulled his shirt back over his arm, letting it slink through the short sleeve.  “Just in case of any impact.  It’s only at the shoulder, but I feel less like a mummy now.  A happy medium.”

            Newt smiled.  “Well, since you did that for me…”

            “Who said I did it for you?” Thomas asked. “I was very concerned about my-”

            “Tommy,” Newt interrupted.  “If you’d let me finish…?”

            Something slowly connected in Thomas’ head.  He smiled.  “You were saying?  Something about how selfless I am?”

            Newt eyed him a silent warning before he looked past him out to the rest of the camp.  “You still have your backpack stocked?”

            Thomas nodded.

            “Wait here.”

            Thomas opened his mouth, but Newt was already up and walking across the camp to Frypan and Brenda.  They seemed to be the only ones awake now.  Thomas watched as Newt crouched down in front of them.  Frypan scratched his head and said something that earned a light shrug from Brenda.  Her face shifted into an odd serious look that Thomas wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

            Newt stood then and walked back over and past Thomas to get to Joe’s truck.

            Thomas looked back at the others and then turned his head to Newt.

            “Come here,” Newt said as he opened the back door.

            Thomas let his heart stutter once before he pushed himself up to stand.  He walked over as Newt handed him his gray jacket. “What’s going on?”

            “Said you wanted to explore, right?” Newt asked, pulling his own fluffy jacket out from the truck.

            “Wait,” Thomas eyed the jackets.  “Now?”

            Newt only eyed him in response.  He coughed out a laugh.  “Tommy, I saw you when Vince said no.  You were going to go anyway.  Figured at least this way you’re not alone.”

            Thomas felt something brighten within himself.  “You’re gonna come with me?”

            “I go where you go.”

            Thomas’ heart sputtered.  “So, Vince said this was okay?”

            Newt shifted his eyes, worked his tongue in the corner of his mouth.  “Vince doesn’t know.”

            Thomas rose his eyebrows in mocked surprise, a smile curling upward as he spoke.  “Wow.  Seems I’ve had a bad influence on you.”

            Newt’s hand shot forward and gave a hard tap to Thomas’ stomach, causing him to buckle over just slightly. “At least I told someone.”

            Thomas stood straight again as he glanced back to Frypan and Brenda.  “They’re not coming?”

            “Just us,” Newt said, shutting the door and holding out Thomas’ small backpack.

            Thomas took the backpack, a bubble growing in his chest.  _Just us._

            “Well,” Newt gestured toward the line of trees.  “Lead on.”

            Thomas knew he had a full-on smile on his face now, but could do nothing to hide it. 

            Newt animatedly rolled his eyes and gave Thomas a slight shove at his side to move him forward.

            Thomas laughed all the way to the tree line.

 

            The forest was dense.  There wasn’t much of a walking path that Thomas could see, but they wound their way throughout the trees, eyeing the ground for twisted roots and divots they worked to avoid.   In the cover of the branches, the darkness took over. 

            “We should be far enough from camp to use light now,” Newt suggested.  “No one will see them and come hunting.”

            “Planned this out, huh?”

            Newt gave Thomas a withering looked and held his hand out.  “Just give me one of the torches.”

            Thomas slung his backpack down from his left shoulder as he raised a brow at Newt.

            “Flashlight,” Newt corrected himself.  “Whatever.”

            Thomas let out a small laugh but handed the flashlight over. 

            Newt flicked it on and off in Thomas’ face once in spite and Thomas lifted his hands to block it, laughing. 

            “I didn’t even say anything!” he protested.

            “Not in words, you didn’t,” Newt said, directing the light along the trees and getting a look around.

            Thomas pulled his own flashlight out from the backpack and slung it back on his shoulder.

            They continued to walk further into the forest, and it was on one of the deep breaths Thomas took that he realized the surrounding air had changed.  There was a scent of grass and moss and in a startling moment, Thomas realized it reminded him of the Glade.  It reminded him of-

            “Tommy?” Newt asked, pulling Thomas’ focus back. “You alright?”  
  
            Thomas just stared back at Newt for a moment, scents swirling around him. 

            “Tommy, what’re you doing?” Newt laughed.

            “Nothing,” he shook his head.  It dawned on him that he’d stopped walking and Newt was now paces ahead of him, waiting.

            Newt lowered an eyebrow.

            “Just…it’s nothing.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing,” Thomas shook his head again.  “It’s weird,” he laughed.

            “Weird,” Newt repeated.  “What’s weird?”

            Thomas gestured to his head as he started walking again.

            “What happened?” Newt laughed.

            “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”  Thomas eyed the ground to watch his steps, wishing he wasn’t acting so weird.  So what if he was surrounded by an entire forest that reminded him of Newt?

            “You’re being weird.”

            Thomas tossed his head back. “Forget it,” he groaned, stepping past Newt.  He was stopped by a hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him back half a step.  He turned his head to brown eyes shifting between his own.  He laughed.  “I’m not gonna tell you.”

            Newt rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away.  “Fine, keep your buggin’ secrets.”

            Thomas smirked as he led them on.

 

            For all of his distractions, Thomas only tripped over a loose twig once, hand scraping against the slick tree bark for purchase.

            “Smooth, Tommy.”

            He wiped his hand clean on the front of Newt’s shirt as he gave him a mocking _thanks_.

            Newt shrugged.  “I don’t care. Whoever has to wear this shirt next has to deal with it.”

            “That’s not very considerate.”

            Newt eyed him in the glow of the flashlight.

            Thomas waited a breath before he turned and continued leading them through the trees.  Only four steps later, he cursed himself for turning away at all.

           

            About twenty minutes later, Newt discovered a pile of clean stones.  He flipped them over, feeling how smooth the surfaces were.

            “Fascinating,” Thomas teased. “You think the Flare could get into stone?”

            Newt slowly angled his head up to look at Thomas, a feigned picture of contempt written on his face.

            Thomas couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him.

            One minute later, he was leading them off again.

            One minute after that, a stone hit him square in the back.

 

            Sometime after that, Thomas let cool fingers link in his own as they continued to wander.  They spent most of the night using Thomas’ dagger to mark up trees to find their way back, scuffing lines in the dirt and standing twigs up in various noticeable piles.  It turned into a game, to see who could create the more outlandish mark.

            It ended when Newt reached around Thomas’ waist to slide the dagger from its holster and Thomas’ hand instinctively shot up landing on Newt’s and accidentally pressing the dagger into his own side.

            “Shit, Tommy!”

            Thomas looked to the side and lifted back his jacket as Newt pulled the hem of his shirt up to his ribs. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as the lack of a mark.  “Lucky the jacket was there.”

            Newt gulped, dropping the shirt.  “Mmm,” he nodded.  “You should mark the tree.”

            “Here,” Thomas flipped the dagger and reached it out to Newt, hilt first.  “You wanted to.”

            “I’m good,” Newt said, scratching his jaw.  He moved his hand to rub the back of his neck and then turned.  “Go ahead, mark it and let’s continue.”

            Thomas shook his head and turned to the tree.  He lifted the dagger to the trunk and pressed it easily into the damp bark, letting small pieces fall away as he carved an odd triangle.  He wiped the wet dirt on his jeans before he froze suddenly.  “Newt,” he said, barely above a whisper.

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas stared at the tree.  He inhaled the damp moss around them and turned to look at the leaves on the ground, sprouting from bushes.  He scrambled down, yanking open the backpack.

            “What is it?” Newt asked, jogging back over, light bouncing with his steps.

            Thomas slipped a pair of the plastic gloves on and yanked one of the leaves from the bush.  He crumpled it up and crushed it between his fingers before he rubbed it along the already-dirty hem of his white shirt. He swallowed.  He repeated it again with another leaf.

            “Tommy,” Newt breathed.

            Thomas looked up at Newt to see the excitement mirrored there.  He pulled the gloves off and pressed his hand to the dirt on the forest floor.  “Newt,” Thomas laughed.  “It’s wet.”  He looked back up to see Newt eyeing the ground around them.  “Look,” Thomas insisted as he lifted his hand and turned it.  There were splotches of wet dirt along his hand and he distantly recalled being splashed by mud on the ride over. 

            Newt swallowed.  “Tommy,” he started.

            “I know.”

            “No,” Newt shook his head. 

            “No, Newt,” Thomas laughed.  “I know.  This is where they’ve been getting their supplies.”

            “No,” Newt shook his head. “Well, yes, but not only that.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow.

            Newt scuffed his boot in the mud, digging a small divot.  It grew muddier the deeper he dug.  “There’s water here.”

            Thomas lowered a hand to the mud and felt the coolness of it.  He looked up at Newt.  “Holy shit.”

            Newt laughed, slightly hysterical.  “Is this real?”

            “We have to follow it.”

            To Thomas’ slight surprise and relief, Newt nodded immediately.  “Let’s go.”

            Thomas’ boot slipped only slightly on the mud as Newt lunged forward to help him up and they scrambled forward, deeper into the forest.

            They continued their routine of marking trees, though with much more enthusiasm and excitement now.  They hadn’t known what they were looking for until they found it.

            Thomas flung an arm out against Newt’s chest, stilling him.  “Listen.”

            In the silence, they heard a trilling sound.  Thomas could only relate it to the sound of water bottles being unloaded into the basin.  He turned to Newt.

            “Where is it?” Newt whispered.

            Thomas tilted his head, nodding to the side.  They cautiously stepped through twigs and made their way a bit to the left, following the sounds.  Finally, they reached it.

            A small brook separated them from the other half of the forest, nearly ten feet wide.

            Newt choked out a laugh next to him and Thomas’ knees nearly buckled.  There was a small muddy bank that lead to the creek, leaves and twigs drifting down the stream. 

            “Think we can jump it?” Thomas asked.

            “Why don’t we walk?” Newt pointed a bit down the stream to where a log rested across the entire bank. 

            Thomas turned back to look at Newt.  “You’re no fun.”

            Newt gave him a light shove toward the log.

            “Where do you think it leads?” Thomas asked as he made his way over.

            “I’m more curious to know where it comes from.”

            Thomas couldn’t argue that. He reached the log and bent down to push it.

            “What’re you doing?” Newt asked.

            “Making sure it’s stable,” Thomas said giving it another shove.  The log didn’t budge.  “Alright.  Would you like to do the honors?”

            “By all means,” Newt gestured.

            Thomas sorted.  He pocketed the flashlight and stepped slowly onto the log, braced himself and then lifted himself up, placing his other foot in front and lifting his arms to the side for balance.

            “You okay?” Newt asked.

            “Yeah, just,” Thomas shifted his legs a bit.  “Centering myself.”

            “Don’t fall.”

            “Thanks, Newt.  Sound advice.”

            “S’what I’m here for.”

            Thomas smiled to himself as he began to walk a few steps forward.  He turned back.  “You coming?”  
  
            Newt eyed the log and then the water.

            “This was your idea,” Thomas said dropping his arms.  “You literally pointed to this log and said _walk_.”

            “I’m not saying I didn’t!”

            “Well?” Thomas asked, gesturing to the log wildly.

            Newt’s tongue worked the corner of his mouth.  “Alright, let’s go.”  
  
            Thomas held out a hand to help Newt onto the log but Newt just eyed him.  Thomas held his hands up and let Newt pull himself up.

            He shakily balanced himself, took one step and then shot an arm forward, which Thomas took in his hand.  “I gotcha.”

            Newt sighed through his nose.

            Thomas looked over his shoulder at the log behind him.  One arm still on Newt, and one held out for balance, he stepped backward.

            “Tommy, watch where you’re going.”

            “I know, Newt, I’m fine,” he beckoned Newt toward him.  “Come on.”  
  
            “Will you watch where you’re going?”

            “Newt, I’m fine,” Thomas repeated, tugging just slightly on Newt’s arm. “Walk.”

            Newt stepped closer to Thomas, swaying a bit to the side.  “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you’d just walk normally.”

            Thomas let out a hint of a sigh, but conceded.  He slowly let go of Newt’s arm and turned easily on the log, He carefully but swiftly made his way to the other side of the creek and onto the bank.  He turned to see that Newt had taken one single step.

            He bit down on his smile.

            Newt’s brows were furrowed as his eyes stayed glued to the log in front of him, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, arms stretched out like a deranged bird.  The image was only made clearer when Newt suddenly tilted and leaned far too left.

            “Newt!”

            He caught and centered himself, crouched on the log with both hands braced on it.

            “You good?” Thomas asked.

            “Yeah,” he laughed.

            Thomas clenched his jaw and wondered briefly about Newt’s leg.  Tumbling rocks and ash clouded his memory for a moment until he blinked it away and saw Newt in front of him on the log.  He reached up a hand.

            Newt eyed him.

            Thomas fought the eye roll away as he stepped backward, giving Newt space to hop down from the log.

            “Well that was different,” Newt said, eyeing the brook before leading the way deeper into the forest.

           

            They walked parallel with the brook for a while, flashlights bobbing, until it became wider and Newt tugged Thomas off a bit further from it.

            “I hear more water this way.”

            Thomas turned to eye the brook once more, looked to see if he could tell where it led off, but there were too many trees.  He turned and walked directly into Newt. 

            “Tommy?”

            “Why’d you stop?” he asked, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead where it had bumped into the back of Newt’s head.

            “Look.”

            Thomas dropped his hand and looked up over Newt’s shoulder.  He felt something break loose from his chest, bubble out from his throat, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing water ahead of them.

            A large pool of water expanding nearly the size of the Right Arm’s camp rippled in front of them.  There was a stream of water flowing from various crevices in the stone cliffs surrounding it and small tufts of grass grew here and there in the muddied banks.  All of this was made clear through the soft glow from the moon and stars above, shining down through the gap in the tree coverage.

            “There’s no way…” Thomas started.  But, of course there was, and part of him had known it all along.  There were people in the world living.  And though there was struggle in the Scorch and the desert, it had to end somewhere.  Part of the world was still living, not just surviving.  And something deep within Thomas stirred with the knowledge that WCKD needed that part of the world in order for themselves to live.  In order for them to run their facilities, run their tests.  He couldn’t believe he didn’t put it together before.

            “How is this possible?” Newt asked.

            Thomas shook his head. 

            They stood another moment in silence before they both moved.

            Thomas’ boots slid a bit in the muddy bank until he reached the edge of the water.  He crouched down and slowly dipped a hand in it and let the coolness run along his skin.  He stared at his hand beneath the water.  It was unreal.

            Next to his hand, Newt’s turned over as well, and Thomas looked up to see Newt staring in awe, crouched down next to him.  “This is amazing,” Newt breathed.

            Thomas watched as Newt grabbed a nearby thin branch and reached it into the water.  He moved it further and further until it suddenly slid deeper into the water.  “There’s a drop off here.”

            “How deep?”

            “I can’t tell, hang on.”  Newt shuffled a bit and stood up, wading ankle deep into the water.

            “Don’t fall,” Thomas advised.

            “Slim it,” Newt said, shifting a bit more forward.  He bent forward for a minute before straightening and pulling the branch back.  “I still can’t feel a surface down there.”  He eyed the branch, standing it at the ground next to him.  “This thing’s gotta be at least five feet.”

            “Let’s get another,” Thomas shrugged.

            They worked together, using a spare bit of medical tape Thomas took with him to wrap a few long twigs and light branches together.  When they had one with about six branches tied together, it got too heavy to lift between their tired arms.

            “This thing has no bottom,” Thomas sighed. “It’s official.”

            Newt laughed, lying back on the ground to catch his breath.  “Well, it’s more than thirty feet at least.”

            “No bottom,” Thomas repeated.  His eyes snagged just above Newt then.  “Hey,” he said, standing.   “Come here.”  He started walking forward, around the bank of the pool and could just barely make out Newt’s footsteps behind him.  They reached one of the large stone rocks and Thomas pocketed his flashlight again before he reached up with his left arm to the top of the stone.  He looked down to find a crevice and planted his boot in it, hoisting himself up.  He reached down to help Newt climb his way up as well.

            “Where are you going?” Newt asked as Thomas turned and repeated the process on the next rock up. 

            “Up.”

            “Where?”

            “I don’t know,” Thomas shrugged.  He heard an exasperated sigh, but when he turned around, Newt was following him.  They climbed only one more rock before Thomas stopped and looked down at the water. 

            They were close to twenty feet up now.  “It’s so much nicer from up here.”  He turned to beckon Newt closer to look. 

            Newt rubbed the back of his neck.  “Maybe we should go back down,” he shrugged.  “Might not be a bad idea to rinse off in the water.”

            Thomas blinked at him, smiling.  “What’re you trying to say?”

            Newt smirked at him.

            Thomas laughed and looked back down into the pool.  “Hey,” he turned back.  “Do you still have those stones?”  
  
            Newt nodded, handing one over.  “And you made fun of me for ‘em.”

            “I did not,” Thomas insisted, looking back to the water.  He aimed his flashlight into the water and tossed the stone down, watching it sink deeper and deeper until it disappeared completely. 

            “Thomas…” Newt started.

            Thomas turned back to him.  “You said we should rinse off,” Thomas shrugged.

            “Tommy, no.  This is not what I said,” he gestured to the small cliff’s ledge.

            “Come on,” Thomas tried.  “It’ll be fun.”

            “Whose definition of fun are you going on, here?”

            “Yours, I hope,” Thomas smiled.

            “Don’t do that,” Newt said narrowing his eyes.

            “Do what?”

            “That face.”

            “What face?”

            Newt eyed him silently.

            Thomas stepped toward him.  “Come on, just once.”

            “What is with you?” Newt laughed. 

            Thomas opened his mouth and gestured vaguely.  No words came out, because he had none.  He didn’t know what it was, but suddenly he just wanted to do this one thing.  This one thing to feel like he was in control of something.  To get something moving inside of him, to stir something awake.  He turned to look at the ledge again.

            “Tommy…”

            “You don’t have to,” he said turned back to Newt.

            “Don’t do that,” Newt shook his head.

            “What am I doing now?”

            “Don’t say it like that,” Newt said softly.  “Like I’m ruining this for you.”

            Thomas’ brows shot up.  “What?”

            Newt took a deep breath but said nothing, his eyes flicking to the trees around them.

            Thomas watched a muscle flicker in his jaw.  “Newt, I’m serious.  You don’t have to.  But I don’t…” Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “I don’t know how to explain it, but I need to.”

            “You need to?” Newt looked at him, brows furrowed.

            “I just…” Thomas shrugged.  “It feels like something I want to do.”

            Newt stood in silence watching him for a moment.

            Thomas felt like an idiot.  How was he supposed to explain this?  How was he supposed to explain that jumping into something so _real_ , so _alive_ was something that he needed to do? 

            “Okay,” Newt nodded.

            “Okay?”

            “Okay.”

            Thomas exhaled a small relief.  He let the backpack slide off his shoulder and shrugged the jacket off.  “I’ll meet you at the bottom then or back up here?”

            Newt shook his head.  “I’m going with you.”

            Thomas couldn’t have hided the smile if he tried.  “You’re what?”

            Newt nodded continuously, shrugging his own jacket off.  “I’m going with you.”

            Thomas’ smile grew even wider for a split second before he stopped himself.  “Newt, wait.  You don’t have to do this.”

            “No,” Newt shook his head.  “I want to.”

            Thomas flicked his eyes between Newt’s, looking for any trace of doubt.

            “I mean it,” Newt nodded.

            “It’d be a bit more convincing if you stopped shaking your head and then nodding and then shaking your head again,” Thomas said in a small voice.

            Newt let out a small laugh as he looked down at the jackets.  “Sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize.  Just promise me you’re not doing this for me.”  
  
            Newt looked up at him now.  “No, Tommy.  I mean, yes, I want to do this for you, too. But,” he started to shake his head and then stopped himself with a laugh.  “I’m doing this for myself.”

            Thomas flicked his eyes between Newt’s again. “Conquering fears now, hm?”

            Newt let out a breath of a laugh.  “You’ve had an influence on me.”

            Thomas smiled.  Part of him worried that this was his fault, despite Newt’s words.  “Do you trust me?”

            Newt’s eyes steadied on Thomas’.  “Of course,” he breathed.  A moment passed between them before Newt spoke again. “You’ll go with me?”  
  
            “I’m right here,” Thomas said.  He reached a hand out to link their fingers.

            Newt swallowed and then nodded. “Okay.  Okay, let’s go.”

            Thomas reached out with his other hand and directed Newt a bit further back.  “Okay, hang on.  We’ll go on three, okay?”

            “We just run and go?”  
  
            Thomas nodded.

            “Okay.”

            He could see the nerves ricocheting throughout Newt’s body.  “Hey,” Thomas whispered.  “Only if you want to.”  
  
            “I do,” Newt said.  He let a small laugh out.  “I’m just not great with heights.”

            This was new information that Thomas squared away in his mind for the future.  Part of him cursed himself for not thinking of this possibility earlier.  He never would have come up here.

            “Stop it, Tommy.”      

            “What?”

            “You’re thinking too much.”

            Thomas smiled.  “Can’t help it.”

            “I know,” Newt said.  “Try to.”

            “Right,” Thomas said.  He let go of one of Newt’s hands to stand next to him facing the far edge of the small cliff.  “Are you sure you wanna-”

            “If you ask me one more time, I’m going without you.”

            Thomas gave a small squeeze of his hand. 

            “On three?”

            “On three,” Thomas repeated.  “You wanna count?”

            Newt waited a breath.  “I think it’s better if you do, actually.”

            “Okay,” Thomas said softly.  “You’re ready?”

            Newt took a deep breath and exhaled.  “Yes.”

            Thomas eyed him for another breath before he faced forward.  “I’m going to let go of your hand now, okay?”

            “Mhm.”

            Thomas unlinked their fingers in favor of pressing a hand to brace his shoulder.  Suddenly his own nerves shot through him.  This seemed like such a simple thing before, why now was he panicking?  No, now wasn’t the time.  He’d do this for Newt.  “One…”

            If Newt wanted to conquer a fear, Thomas would be there to do it with him. 

            “Two…”

            They would get through this together.

            “Three!”

            Thomas took one step forward before his arm was grabbed and pulled back with a series of _“wait, wait, wait, wait, wait”_ s.  Thomas stumbled backward into his place next to Newt.

            “Shit,” Newt laughed. “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” Thomas said.  “It’s okay.”  
  
            Newt sighed again.  “Maybe it is better if I count.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Okay, when you’re ready. Take as long as you need.”

            Newt steeled himself.  “Alright. One…”

            Thomas pulled his focus to the edge again.

            “Two…”

            He let his heart rate pick up, felt the tension slither down his legs.

            .

            .

            .

            .

            .

            .

            .

            “Newt?”

            “Sorry,” he laughed.

            “No, no,” Thomas insisted, turning to him.  “It’s okay.”

            Newt’s brows furrowed as he stared at the ground in front of him.  He exhaled a frustrated breath.

            “Hey,” Thomas started, linking their fingers again.

            A muscle feathered in Newt’s jaw.

            “Hey,” Thomas repeated, reaching over and turning Newt to face him.  “Hey,” he said once more, quieter.

            Newt’s eyes found his.  They softened after a moment.  “Hey,” Newt sighed.

            Thomas gave him a small smile.  “You know I used to teach people to swim before the Maze?”

            Newt’s brows furrowed.  “What?”  
  
            “Yeah,” Thomas nodded.  “I used to be an instructor.  And I taught diving and all-”

            “Tommy,” Newt’s eyes widened a bit.  “You remember?”

            “Wha-oh! No, no, not actually remember. I’m just,” Thomas swallowed. “It’s a thing, Harriet told me.”  
  
            “Harriet remembers?”

            “No,” Thomas shook his head.  “No, she told me about this thing she and Sonya did once about making up memories or something.” He sighed. “I forgot exactly what it was.”

            Newt lowered a brow.  “So, you weren’t an instructor?”

            Thomas snorted. “No.”

            “I’m confused.”

            “Look,” Thomas waved it off.  “Forget what I just said.  I was just trying to make a point about memories.  About how there are ways to make them.”

            Newt’s eyes seemed to burrow into his own.

            “I just… I was trying to get to a point where I’d tell you this could be a memory,” Thomas shrugged. “For us.”

            Newt continued watching him.

            “I realize that probably makes no sense,” Thomas laughed.  “I swear there was a…” he gestured vaguely to his head.  “There was a connection to all of this.”

            Newt let out a small, sharp laugh.

            Thomas flicked his eyes back up at him to see him smiling.  It loosened something in Thomas.  At the very least, his stumbling phrases earned that smile, and it was good enough for him.

            “You ready?” Newt asked.

            Thomas smiled.  “When you are.”

            Newt nodded and unlinked their fingers.

            They both faced the ledge again.

            “You or me?” Thomas asked.

            Newt took a breath.  “One…”  
  
            Thomas smiled.

            “Two…”

            His body thrummed.

            “Three.”

            They ran.

 

            Jumping was easy. 

            It was taking a leap, bounding toward something.  Moving.  It was getting somewhere.

            Falling was easier.

            It was freeing, relaxing.  It was letting go and it was reaching that point of doing everything you could before giving into your surroundings. It _was_ giving into the surroundings.  Thomas could fall for ages.

            Instead, it only lasted a split second.

            It was waving arms, a flash of Newt ahead of him, and then it was cold water.

            It flooded his nose a bit more than he’d have liked, but aside from that, it sent freedom through him.  He was surrounded by it until he wasn’t.

            His head broke the surface and he took in a breath of air, coughing out the last of the water that had snuck into his throat.  He shook his head clear, wiping his eyes. He immediately spun round, calling Newt’s name.

            “Tommy.”

            He spun again to see Newt wiping water from one of his eyes, mouth hanging open in wonder.

            “Hey,” Thomas said.  He kicked his legs out and used his better arm to swim toward Newt, ignoring the throbbing in his right arm.  Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt.  It was just a steady reminder that it wasn’t fully healed.  He reached Newt and pushed his shoulder out of his mind.  “Hey.”

            “Hey,” Newt breathed.

            Thomas ran his eyes down Newt’s face and back up to his eyes. “How do you feel?”

            Newt nodded.

            “Are you okay?”  Thomas asked, heart hammering suddenly.  “Are you good?”

            “I’m good, Tommy, I’m…” Newt swallowed.  “I’m alive.”

            Thomas smiled.  “Of course you are.”

            “No, Thomas,” Newt laughed.  “I’m alive. You…” he shook his head. 

            Thomas felt his heart pound somewhere beneath the surface of the water. 

             “You make me feel alive,” Newt breathed.  He corrected himself.  “You make me feel like I’m living.” 

            Thomas felt a hand at his waist suddenly as Newt pulled him closer.  His other hand curled around the back of Thomas’ neck and a breath later, Thomas was tasting the salt that had dripped down to Newt’s mouth, the life in him seeping into Thomas.

            He pulled away on a shaking breath.

            “Come on,” Thomas nudged him toward the bank and the two of them swam over.  When Thomas’ boots hit the solid ground, he walked up until he was only waist deep in the water. He reached out for Newt’s hand and tugged him back.  His arms linked around Newt’s waist, hands grasping at the wet shirt stuck to his back, and as they reconnected, Thomas felt like he was falling for ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! A little late, but better than I have been lately. I'm sloooowly getting back. I swear. Have this long ass chapter.
> 
> And some notes.
> 
> 1\. Matt’s Infection - Have lots of insight on wounds and healing in post apocalyptic futures! We have a bit more of an understanding of what Matt’s going through here - it’s not The Flare, it’s just normal human infection. There are still things out there that they’re not immune to. This is a reminder of that.
> 
> 2\. The Deer - Animals exist! Sometimes they’re Flared out, sometimes they’re not. 
> 
> 3\. Thomas still doesn’t know how to sit in trucks properly.
> 
> 4\. Frypan’s driving constantly jarring Thomas from his thoughts. 
> 
> 5\. Harriet’s Story - I’m living for Sonyarriet moments. Harriet is finally at a stage where she feels comfortable sharing (with Thomas) bits and pieces about herself and Sonya. 
> 
> 6\. Thomas’ “Weird” Moment in the Forest - Sometimes your thoughts get ahead of you and you react physically too fast before you can think it through. Thomas went through one of those moments here and was thoroughly embarrassed. It’s not like he could just TELL Newt he was thinking about the way he smelled.
> 
> 7\. The First Date - Moonlight stroll through the woods with some night swimming? Newt conquering fears? Watery Newtmas kisses (with happy tears to boot)? Sign me the fck up!
> 
>  
> 
> Like Harriet said, this is super cheesy, but it makes us happy, right? Right. <3
> 
> Love you all endlessly as always!!!!! Your comments and kudos and just genuine appreciation of this story give me life <3 You all make me feel like I'm living :)


	26. On Mementos and Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Sometimes There's Nothing You Could Have Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mention of character death

 

            The damp dirt was cool beneath Thomas as he laid there, Newt’s voice a steady melody beside him continuing his story.  Half of Thomas’ focus was there. The other half was at his left hand, fingers playing idly with Newt’s.  Newt’s arm was stretched above his head to reach Thomas’ as they laid in their upside-down way that always seemed to just happen with them.  Thomas didn’t mind.  He could lie like that for hours if it meant he got to do it with Newt.

            “So then,” Newt continued, eyes set on the stars above them, “he starts waving around this literal frypan, telling us to all slowly back away from the edge of the box. I thought Alby was going to get knocked out.  He kept telling him to put it down but you should’ve seen Fry swinging that thing.”

            Thomas left a laugh bubble out of him.

            “When he actually _did_ remember his name, no one bothered to call him by it.  By then he’d already gained the nickname Frypan all morning and no one ever switched back.”

            “Not Greenie?”

            Newt smiled.  “No, we didn’t have that name around yet.  That didn’t come ‘til about two or three months later, actually.”

            Thomas distantly wondered about the names, the slang, and how it all started.  How the Gladers developed an entire world on their own, for their own.

            “I tried to use his real name,” Newt continued, “but he shrugged it off, saying he didn’t mind the nickname.  It made him feel included, like he belonged there.”  
  
            Thomas smiled.  “You gonna tell me his real name?”  
  
            Newt snorted. “I should, considering he had no qualms about spilling a story or two about me, but it’s Fry’s name to share or not.  Besides, it’s not really his name, not anymore.”

            “But you remember it.”

            “Of course I do.”

            Thomas smiled wider, if possible.  “Of course you do.”  He was struck by a different question then.  As much as he liked hearing about the others, he realized there was a story he was much more interested in. “What was your first day like?”

            Newt swallowed, still eyeing the stars, and Thomas realized that Newt’s fingers had stopped moving along his own. 

            Thomas filled the silence.  “I remember mine like it was yesterday.”

            Newt’s smile returned then. “In fairness, it was only four or five months ago.”

            “It was four,” Thomas answered over a laugh.  “And cut me some slack.  That’s four whole months of memories.”

            Newt’s face changed again as he turned now to look at Thomas.  There was something sad in his eyes that Thomas thought he recognized as pity.  He brushed it away as he spoke.  “You’re in every single one.”

            They watched each other for a moment until Thomas brought his hand up a bit further to Newt’s head and pulled him closer to connect them.  He smiled as Newt laughed into the kiss.

            “This still doesn’t work,” Newt said.

            Thomas wanted to laugh, wanted to share this, but he pulled himself up instead.  His shirt was still damp against his back, cool in the night air.  He listened as Newt sat up and turned, shuffling to sit next to him and face the glassy water.

            “Didn’t mean we had to stop,” Newt said in a small voice, pressing his shoulder to Thomas’.

            Thomas turned to him.  “Is there a ‘we’?”

            Newt furrowed his brow.

            “I mean on this level,” Thomas continued.  “I know there’s always been this… us,” he gestured between them.  He waited in the beat of the silence before he sighed and turned back to the water.  “I’m not making sense.”

            “Yes, you are,” Newt answered.  “And yes, there is.”

            Thomas flicked his gaze over a bit, not quite reaching Newt yet.  He ran the words over in his head again, making sure he heard them clearly, before he looked at him fully. 

            Newt’s face dropped.  “Unless?”

            Thomas’ brows flicked up.  “No! I mean yes.”

            Newt’s eyes shifted, confused.

            “I mean that…” Thomas sighed, pressing his mouth closed. He reached forward and turned Newt toward him, answering with action instead of the words that seemed to be failing him.

            Newt pulled away just slightly and breathed a question against Thomas’ mouth.  “Is that a yes?”

            Thomas nodded. “It’s a hundred yesses.”

            Newt smiled, but backed up slightly.  The smile quirked up on one side as he spoke.  “Only a hundred?”  
  
            Thomas didn’t bother with a retort.  He sprang forward again, reconnecting them hard enough that when Newt lifted his arms to wrap them around Thomas’ neck, he fell backward and Thomas followed him down.  Thomas leaned on his left arm, hovering slightly over Newt. His right hand found its place curled against Newt’s neck and jaw and he angled him up into the kiss.

            However long they stayed there, Thomas didn’t care.  He didn’t keep count.  He just rested against Newt, their mouths working in rhythm with each other.  All thoughts of the Glader slang and first days were long gone.

 

***  
  
  
            After Thomas retrieved their jackets from the cliff, considered jumping again, decided against it when Newt reminded him how soaked he’d be when they returned to Camp, and finally climbed back down, they decided to start heading back.

            They crossed back over the log and trekked along the brook, winding in and out of their marked trees.  The moon was sinking low, giving them a counter of how much time they had to get back to camp before anyone noticed they were gone.  Not that it kept them from stopping every few yards.

            When Newt lurched awkwardly to the left, Thomas threw an arm out to catch him and pulled him back into him in a kiss.  When Thomas crouched down to inspect a particularly odd shaped tree root, Newt hovered over his shoulder until Thomas turned to look at him and Newt caught him in his own kiss.  Thomas could get used to this.  He wanted to get used to this.

            Thomas had spent more time interested in a growing wild bush than was probably necessary, but his curiosity won him over.  “Do you see this?” he pointed to brambles of twigs with small green buds coming from them.  His eyes trailed along one of them as he continued to speak.  “The plants aren’t just living, they’re growing.  They’re sprouting.  This me-“ he cut himself off when he looked up to see that Newt had already walked off and continued on farther.  Thomas laughed quietly, pushed himself from the ground and jogged after Newt.  He ran up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, shoving his hands into Newt’s jacket pockets and pressing a kiss to his neck.

            He pulled back as his fingers brushed against something inside of Newt’s pocket. He pulled out one of the stones.  “Why’d you take these?”

            “I don’t know,” Newt laughed.  He pulled the rest out of his pocket and looked down at them in the palm of his hand.  “It’s stupid, I guess.”

            Thomas pressed his mouth against Newt’s shoulder and used his other hand to pull him closer to him.  “Tell me.”

            Newt shrugged. “It’s ridiculous, really.  Don’t worry about it.”

            Thomas nudged his head sideways against Newt’s, silently urging him to continue.

            “It started back in the Glade,” Newt sighed. “I hated that I couldn’t remember anything.  I knew I’d obviously had a life before, years of one, but I couldn’t remember a single part of it.”

            Thomas furrowed his brows.  He knew the feeling, it was all too familiar.

            “I never wanted to go through that again,” Newt continued.  “To go through memory loss or whatever might have happened.  Obviously at the time I didn’t realize it was all manufactured by WCKD.”

            Thomas felt a guilty sting inside of him.  It was his fault.  His own doing that stirred up this hurt somewhere in Newt. 

            “So, I started collecting things,” Newt said, eyeing the stones. “A bit of excess rope from hanging my hammock, an extra nail from the first project I helped Ben with, things like that.”

            Thomas eyed him as he paused.  “Things to remind you of the good bits.”

            Newt tilted his head.  “Just to remind me of anything.  The others started to catch on when Stan found my crate.  So, it became a thing for them all to give me ridiculous things.  Gally gave me a whole chair once.”

            Thomas bit down on the churning sickness he felt at Gally’s name.

            “Minho once gave me three blades of grass,” he snorted.

            Thomas smiled at that one.

            “I never told him, and I know it was just a stupid joke, but I kept them.”

            A silence settled and Thomas waited, letting Newt remember.

            He blinked himself back and looked sideways at Thomas quickly before breathing out a small laugh.  “See?” He tossed the handful of stones off into the brook beside them.  “Ridiculous.”

            Thomas stood straight and turned Newt to face him.  He pulled him in by his coat pockets.  “I don’t think it’s ridiculous to want to remember.

            Newt swallowed.

            They were interrupted suddenly by a harsh screech and they both flinched against each other.  A sharp whistle sounded out and Thomas’ stomach dropped.

            “What the hell was that?” Newt asked.

            “Our signal,” Thomas breathed.  “We need to run.”  He tore his hands from Newt’s pockets and took off through the forest, listening to the pounding footsteps behind him beneath another whistle.  He slid down a small decline, spinning to check that Newt was following close behind.

            “Go, Tommy!”

            Thomas ran a few steps backward until he saw Newt reach the bottom of the decline and then spun to keep moving forward.  He veered around the criss-crossed pile of twigs they made and brushed past the tree with the detailed pattern Newt carved into it.  After two more whistles, Thomas finally saw the path ahead that they’d entered from.  He sent a sharp whistle back, ignoring the dirt on his fingers.  He looked over his shoulder again and panicked when he saw the empty space.  He kicked off before he thought it through and sprinted back to the first tree they marked to see Newt running around it 

            “Thomas go!”

            He skittered to a halt and spun back, running toward Camp again.   He burst through the line of trees as Vince and Frypan were barreling toward them, the latter sending out another whistle.  Vince pulled his fingers from his mouth, registered both of them, and set his mouth in a line.  Thomas caught the fury in his eyes a second before Frypan crashed to his knees.

            It occurred to Thomas then how quiet it was, how silent the camp was.  There was no panic, no yelling, not even whispers.  Something sunk inside of him, his chest tightened.  He didn’t realize he was shaking his head until words came out.  “No.” The word came out over and over again.  “No, no, no,” again and again and again.  Until it didn’t. 

            His eyes found Brenda first, standing in the distance with a blank face, arms limp at her sides.  He willed his legs to move forward, to go to her, but they were lead.  Part of the ground he stood on.

            Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he saw Newt slowly crouch down in front of Frypan.

            He didn’t know when Vince moved toward him, wrapped an arm around him and murmured a supportive something.

            He didn’t know when Harriet disappeared to the other side of the trucks and collapsed against one of them.

            And he didn’t know when Brenda pushed Jorge’s arm from her and stalked off.

            But more than this, more than any of this, he didn’t know when it happened. 

            He didn’t know when Matt gave up.

 

***

 

            There was no place for fire here. 

 

            There was no safe way to create the pyre.  So, Thomas did the next best thing.  He started digging.  

            There was no shovel and it was with a metal pipe and his hands that he ripped the Earth below him apart until Vince finally dragged him away by the back of his shirt, calling out something about tearing his body apart. 

           

            He was placed down next to Newt, the two left alone against the back wheel of Joe’s truck. 

            Thomas couldn’t help the feeling that it wasn’t out of care, it wasn’t out of concern.  It was out of contempt.

             

            He focused on the continuous motions of Jorge and Vince, listened to the sounds of dirt and rock shifting, not to the sounds of choked gasps coming from the others.   


 

***

  


            Bernard pressed a large stone at one end of the mound of dirt.

            Josh lit a small torch next to it.

            They sat in silence.

            They watched it burn.

            Thomas let his chest burn with it.

  


***

  


            By the afternoon, he still hadn’t moved.

 

            Neither had Newt.

 

            Neither had anyone.

  


***

             


            “Thomas,” Vince’s voice rocked him out of whatever empty daze he had fallen into.  He hadn’t been thinking, he hadn’t been sleeping, he hadn’t been doing anything.  “Thomas,” Vince repeated.

            His eyes focused slowly on Vince.

            “We need to move.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “We can’t stay here,” Vince looked over his shoulder.  “They can’t stay here.”

            Thomas’ chest folded in on itself.

            Vince crouched in front of him.  “Thomas, listen to me.  I know this is hard.  I know this is tough, but focus.  We need you to focus.”  
  
            Thomas blinked.  How could he ask this of him? Why would he?

            “Thomas, talk to me.”

            Thomas swallowed and opened his mouth, but no words came.

            “Thomas.”

            He exhaled.

            “Thomas.”

            What could Vince possibly want from him?

            “Thomas.”

            “What?” he finally yelled.

            Vince nodded.  “Good.”

            “What?” Thomas asked softer.

            “We need to move.”  
  
            Thomas blinked, eyes shifting to the mound of dirt, the small flame that had almost died out.

            “Thomas,” Vince said again, harder. “Focus.”

            Thomas looked up at him.  “Vince,” he shook his head.  “What?”

            “You’re leading this group.  I know this is tough, but this is part of the journey.  You need to keep focused.  You need to keep them moving.”

            “Are you serious?”

            “Yes, Thomas,” Vince nodded.  “Look at them.”  
  
            Thomas blinked.

            “Look at them, Thomas.  Right now.” Vince shook Thomas’ arm gently.

            Thomas blinked his focus a bit clearer and scanned the camp.  He only noticed then that Newt had left his side at some point to sit with Frypan.  Josh and Bernard were huddled against each other.  Jorge leaned against his truck, arms crossed, and Thomas could just make out Brenda sitting in the passenger’s seat, staring blankly forward. 

            Wherever Harriet was, Thomas couldn’t see her.

            He looked back at Vince.

            “You need to move.”

            “Vince,” he shook his head.  “I can’t do this.”

            “Yes, you can.”

            “That’s two people-”

            “I know how many losses, Thomas. You don’t have to count them off to me,” he growled.

            Thomas clenched his jaw.  “Then how can you ask me to move them?”  
  
            “Because if you don’t get them moving, they never will.  They need to see you moving more than ever now.”  
  
            Thomas shook his head.  “I can’t lead them after this.”

            “You can and you’re going to,” Vince said.  “Because that’s what a leader does.

            “Vince.”

            “Thomas, move.”  
  
            “How can you say that? How can you just shrug this off when just a few weeks ago you wouldn’t even look at anyone?”  
  
            Vince swallowed.  “I know. I have my moments just like any of you.  Sometimes they get the better of me.  They drag me down just like anyone else.  But you pulled me from that, Thomas.  You pulled me out and I’m here to do the same to you.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “I wasn’t even here, Vince.”  
  
            Something flashed against Vince’s face but was gone as quickly as it had come.  “Be here for them now, Thomas.  Get them up.  Get them moving.  Keep them from staring at that dirt like it’s gonna disappear.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “That’s your role.”

            Thomas exhaled.  “It’s not as easy as you’re making it out to be.”

            “Make it that easy.  They need you.  They’re gonna lash out, they’re not gonna want to move, they’re gonna want to stay.  They’ll yell and they’ll complain.  But they’ll move.  And you will lead them until they fall back in line behind you.  You just have to move them.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to speak but Vince continued.

            “You moved them after the Right Arm.  You moved them after the Cranks.  I’m sure you moved them countless times before that, too.”

            Thomas thought back to the Griever fight back in the Glade.  He thought over the raid at the Right Arm.  He thought over the Crank battle from just a few weeks ago.  Time after time he’d moved them.  So why, this time did it feel different?

            Except, he knew why.  It was guilt, stapling him down to the ground here.  Guilt, keeping his body from moving, from letting him go.  Each of those fights, he’d been there.  He’d been side by side with them, fighting, trying, helping.  And this time…

            “Don’t do that,” Vince said when Thomas’ eyes drifted out to the line of trees.  “Don’t you feel guilty for not being here.”  
  
            “Aren’t I?”  
  
            “Thomas look me in the eye and tell me you could have stopped this.”

            “I could have tried.”

            “By doing what?”

            “I don’t know, Vince. Anything!”

            “Thomas, this was out of our hands.  All of our hands.  This is not on you.  Remember that.  Now get up.”

            Thomas glared at him.  “Can I have a minute?”

            “No.”  
  
            Thomas clenched his jaw.  “Give me a minute.”

            “No.”

            Thomas ran his tongue along his teeth.

            “You take that anger at me, at _yourself_ , and you use it to fuel yourself.”

            “Where, Vince?” Thomas laughed, quite aware of the bite behind it.  “Where would you like us to move?”

            “What did you find out there?”  Vince nodded toward the forest.

            “Nothing.”

            A muscle feathered in Vince’s jaw.  “You didn’t find clean leaves?” he nodded pointedly at the green lines still smudged along the hem of Thomas’ shirt.  “You didn’t find water?” He tapped the damp leg of Thomas’ jeans.

            Thomas sighed.

            “Tell them, Thomas.  Give them something to look at.  Something else.”

            Thomas shifted his eyes to the others.  “They need a minute.”

            “Thomas, you can’t keep putting this off.  They will sink and they will keep sinking unless you pull them out of this and move them.”

            “Why don’t you tell them?”  
  
            “Because I’m not the one they’re looking at to tell them where to go and what to do next.  They need direction.  They need their leader now, more than ever.”

            Thomas looked at Vince another minute before he nodded.

            “Good.”

 

            It wasn’t as smooth as Vince made it out to be, but Thomas knew that. 

            Josh spat at him, rattled off words Thomas was happy he didn’t understand, and then was pulled back by Bernard who was all too eager to translate the important bits.

            Thomas said nothing in return.  He only waited.

            When Newt stepped up next to him, Thomas only held up a hand to keep him from speaking up in his defense.  He would take this, he’s let them take it out on him.  He’d take this one.

            Vince nodded at him in the distance as Newt fumed next to him.

            Thomas simply turned and carried on.  He rolled up the comforters and sheets, tossed bags in Jorge’s truck, peeled the brace from his shoulder, changed into dry clothing, and spent some time rotating his shoulder.  The pain had faded by now, but bruises peppered the skin around it.  He pushed the cliff jump to the back of his mind.  He wouldn’t spoil that memory with this injury.  He’d deal with it.

            “Easy,” Newt’s voice came low behind him, hands gentle against his upper arm.  “You’re moving too fast.”  
  
            Thomas swallowed.  “Just trying to get rotations in before we move.”

            “I know.”  
  
            A muscle flickered in Thomas’ jaw.

            “I’m here with you, you know?” Newt said as he spotted Thomas’ arm during a slower rotation.

            Thomas tilted his head just a bit to look back toward him. 

            “You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

            Thomas turned to him fully now, lowering his arm from the rotation.  “Are you making a joke?”

            Newt shrugged.  “Did it work?”

            Thomas couldn’t help the small laugh, but he couldn’t help the guilt that cropped up from it too.  “Vince says I have to move them, get us back on track.”

            “He’s right,” Newt nodded.

            “How am I supposed to do that?” Thomas shook his head.  “How am I supposed to just walk up to them and say ‘well, that sucks, but we have to go now’?”

            “Well, I wouldn’t go with those exact words, but basically.”

            Thomas sighed.

            “Look, Tommy.  They’re going to understand.”

            “Are they?”

            “Yes,” he nodded.  “They already do.  They’re sitting around here because they’re waiting.  That’s it.”

            “I don’t want to rush them from this.”

            “They need to be.”

            Thomas sighed.  “Maybe I should give them the option now.”

            Newt tilted his head.

            “To either continue or leave to the Safe Haven.”

            Newt furrowed a brow.  “You could.  I don’t know that any of them will take it, but you could.”

            “I don’t think Josh and Bernard will want to follow me anymore.”  
  
            “They’re upset, Tommy.  But they’re not upset at you.  Why do you keep thinking this is your fault?”

            “I wasn’t here, Newt.”

            “Neither was I.”

            “Yeah but…” Thomas faded to a stop.

            “I know,” Newt nodded.  “It’s different. You’re their leader.  That’s why you feel guilty.  But Thomas, look around you.  They’re all going through their own guilt.  Frypan is wondering if there was anything he could have done, Josh and Bernard keep cursing themselves for being in their own world, Harriet is on an entirely different level blaming herself for not knowing enough.”

            “What?”

            Newt shrugged.  “Thomas, not to be mean, but none of them care about you right now.”

            Thomas blinked.

            “I just mean that they’re dealing with their own issues.”

            Thomas felt something ease inside of him.

            “Vince is right.  The sooner we get out of here, the better it will be.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Okay.”

            “What do you need me to do?”

            Thomas shook his head.

            “Thomas.”  
  
            Thomas swallowed.  “Can you gather everyone in about ten minutes?  Maybe not by…him?”

            “Of course,” Newt nodded and turned to walk toward the camp.

            “Hey Newt?”

            “Hm?” he asked, turning over his shoulder.

            “Thank you.”

            Newt furrowed his brow.  “Of course.”

            “For everything.” 

            Newt swallowed.  “Of course, Tommy,” he repeated quieter. 

            Thomas took a breath and nodded.  When Newt turned to walk off, Thomas steeled himself.  He had to lead them.  He had to see this mission through.

            Minho.

            In the end, this was about Minho.

            And now, more than ever, he was determined to get to him.

 

***

            Thomas shared the story with everyone.

            Not every detail, but the bits they needed to know: the clean leaves, the brook, the lake.  To his surprise, everyone’s eyes were locked on him, taking in every word.

            “We’ll follow the brook further out West.  Just a bit more.  We can turn North if we get the opportunity,” he finished.  He looked around the circle, half of his willpower set on keeping his leg still.  He wouldn’t be nervous, he wouldn’t show his doubt or unease.  He would only tell them where they were going.

            “Whose truck is leading?” Brenda asked.

            Thomas’ eyes shot to her.  She stood with arms folded at her chest, face set in a determination Thomas had only seen once or twice before.  He pointed to Joe’s truck.  “We’ll take the lead here.  You all follow us.  We drive until nightfall, which only gives us about three hours now.  Any other questions before we head out?”

            He was answered with silence, but it wasn’t a tense silence.  There was no residual anger here.  Vince and Newt were right, they had been waiting.  They’d been waiting for a leader.

            “Alright,” he nodded.  “Into the trucks.  Let’s get moving.”

            The group dispersed.  He caught a quick nod from Vince before he turned off and walked to his own truck. 

            “Nice job, Thomas,” Frypan said, clapping a hand to his shoulder.  His voice was quiet, and his face wasn’t drawn up in its usual smile, but it was something.  Right now, Thomas would take something over nothing.

            “Hey, Thomas!”

            He turned to see Josh walking toward him, hands shoved in pockets.

            Newt glanced between the two.

            “I’m not gonna take a swing, don’t worry,” Josh assured him.

            Thomas nodded to the truck and Newt glanced back once at Josh before following Frypan.  Thomas turned back to Josh.

            Josh took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry.”

            Thomas’ brows furrowed.  “What?”

            “About earlier,” Josh clarified.  “I didn’t mean what I said.”

            Thomas swallowed and debated on whether or not it was important to remind Josh that he hadn’t understood half of it.

            “You’re… You’re a good leader, Thomas.  You’ve gotten us so far.  You’ve saved our asses on more than on occasion. And this,” Josh seemed to shove his hands even further into his pockets, shoulders hunching in on himself.  “This doesn’t change that.  If you’ll still have us, Bernard and I want to follow you.  We want to reach WCKD more than ever.  We want to get our friends back.”

            Thomas nodded. “I’d love for you two to stay on board.”

            “We’re in.”

            “I’m sorry, Josh.”

            Josh shook his head.  “This isn’t on you.”

            Thomas saw something flash on Josh’s face.  “It’s not on you, either.”  Thomas stepped forward.  “I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, a lot of us are sort of all over the place.  But, whatever memory you keep replaying?  Whatever moment you keep thinking about and saying _if only I had…_?  Stop it.  None of this is anyone’s fault.  Not yours, not mine, not Harriet’s, not Newt’s, nobody’s. Do you understand that?”

            Josh nodded.

            “He was brave and he was smart and he was such an asset to this team.  Squandering that by letting your guilt weigh you down and hold you back isn’t what we should be doing.  We should be using this to push us forward.  To finish what he set out to do with us.”

            “I know,” Josh nodded.  “I just… I can’t help but think that part of it is on me.  If I hadn’t been so stubborn and insistent on helping in that Crank battle none of this would have happened.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Josh, I don’t know what went on up there. I only know what I saw around me.  But I can tell you that whatever happened was not your fault.  It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just like this isn’t.”

            A silence settled between them and Thomas let himself feel a bit more at ease when Josh finally nodded and smiled.

            “Newt’s right about you, you know?”

            Thomas tilted his head.

            “You’re smart.  You understand people.”

            Thomas could barely gather the thoughts to focus.  It struck him in the chest.  Newt sid this about him.  Newt said this to other people about him.  “What?”

            A horn sounded from Jorge’s truck until it was cut off.

            “Shit, sorry,” Josh shook his head.  “We should get going, I’m holding us up. But, are we good?”

            Thomas blinked.  “Yeah, yeah we’re good.”

            “Okay,” Josh smiled.  He jogged off toward Vince’s truck.

            “Tommy!” Newt called.  Thomas turned to see Newt leaning on Joe’s truck, arms folded across his chest.  “Everything okay?”

            Thomas nodded.  “Yeah.  Everything’s fine.”  He walked over to the truck.

            “I’d say let’s fight for shotgun, but if we don’t get moving soon, Brenda’s gonna find a new, much louder way to get our attention.”

            Thomas huffed out a small laugh, but all he could focus on were Josh’s words that Newt said about him. 

            “All yours,” Newt nodded at the seat as he opened the door.

            Thomas eyed him.  “Do you really think I’m smart?”

            Newt’s brow furrowed.  “What?”

            Thomas didn’t care about Jorge’s horn going off again.  “Do you think I’m smart?”

            “Tommy,” Newt laughed.  “Shut up and get in the truck so we can move.”  He shook his head and made to step around Thomas, but Thomas grabbed his arm, halting him.

            “We don’t have time right now,” Thomas said as the horn blared a third time.  “But when we do, remind me to sit you down and tell you how much of me is because of you.”

            Newt blinked at him.  “What?”

            “I meant it when I said you’re in every memory I have, Newt.  Every part of me is because of you.”

            Newt’s mouth parted and his eyes flicked between Thomas’.

            “Later,” Thomas nodded to him.  He released Newt’s arm and pulled himself into the truck.  When Newt was in the seat behind him, Frypan shifted the truck into drive and started moving the group along. 

            Thomas eyed the grave in the rearview mirror, sending a few silent words of thank you to Matt.

            He thanked him for everything.  He thanked him for pulling Newt from the rubble of stone in the collapsed tunnel, for giving Thomas a backpack of supplies back at the Right Arm before they left the camp.  He thanked him for running headfirst into WCKD’s facility, for the smiles he brought to Brenda and Frypan, and for getting them through the sandstorm.  He thanked him for dances around campfires and card games at night, nicknames and quips.  Mostly he thanked him for months of memories.

            When the grave was no longer in view, Thomas’ gaze shifted to find Newt’s reflection looking back at him.  He slowly dropped his right arm and reached it back between the seat and the door.  He felt Newt’s fingers link in his and his chest loosened.  He leaned back against the seat and looked forward as the trucks moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading another chapter. You all keep me going with every update.
> 
> 1\. Frypan’s origin story - have a headcanon! Ofc Newt remembers his real name. And have half a headcanon about Glader Slang coming about. I have so many ideas about this stuff. Maybe one day I’ll explore it further in my actual writing.
> 
> 2\. Consider Newtmas official.
> 
> 3\. And I’m sorry. Endlessly sorry. <3
> 
>  
> 
> Matt tried his hardest, but in the end, he knew that it was adding stress and tension to the group. He saw them arguing around him, freaking out, spending so much time and focus on getting him better that they couldn't focus on finding their friends. He wasn't feeling great, he wasn't doing well, and after a while he felt that it was better for everyone and for himself. He was happy with his decision and he was ready. He's better now. <3
> 
>  
> 
> *Update: there's been a bunch going on! So unfortunately Thursday's update is off. It will go up Sunday. I love you all for being super patient with me!!!!


	27. On Apparitions and Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Brenda Has OpinionsTM

            For the third time that day, Thomas turned to look over his shoulder at Newt in the backseat.  Something nagged at him that he couldn’t place.  The last few days had been fine, really.  Thomas and Newt led the others through the Cliffs and brought them to the small brook, showed them the leaves, and then revealed the lake.  Thomas ignored the part of him that recoiled at that.  The part of him that didn’t want to share that oasis with the rest of the group.  He knew he had to, knew that it was his responsibility to show them.  Still, it felt invasive, even if Thomas was the one bringing them all in.  The smaller, selfish part of him wanted to keep that just between himself and Newt.

            But that wasn’t what itched at Thomas’ mind.

            They were able to collect leaves, bark, water.  Stockpiled what they could from the Cliffs, knowing it was healthy there.  The bush with the budding plants inside of it turned out to be something useful according to Jorge and Harriet.  He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he didn’t question it.  Just helped them collect it.  He wondered still what it was for.

            But that wasn’t what itched at Thomas’ mind.

            The last few nights were spent sleeping in trucks, often on the road or parked for a few hours on the side.  They were up and moving at the first hint of light and only parked when exhaustion got the better of the drivers.  Thomas tried to stay awake for most of the drive.  He would talk to Frypan and tap away a random beat on the dashboard.  Anything to make noise, to keep moving.  But more often than not, his body got the better of him and he’d find himself shaken awake by a bump in the road.  And every time he woke up and looked over his shoulder, Newt was there in the backseat, still watching the trees pass.

            This was what itched at Thomas’ mind.

            This was why he was turned in his seat yet again.

            This was why, when Frypan hit another dip in the ground, Thomas’ face smashed into the seat.

            “Shit, Tommy, you okay?” Newt leaned forward in his seat.

            Thomas flung a hand up to his face to cup his nose.  Immediately, he smelled rust.  Part of his head swam at the scent as he willed his mind to focus on the present moment and not any other ones.

            "Thomas, are you bleeding?" Frypan's voice came as Thomas turned forward in his seat. 

            He tilted his head back.

            Newt sighed exasperatedly.  "Bloody hell.”

            "Basically," Thomas groaned into his palm.

            "Really?" Newt asked, shuffling to the center toward Thomas.  He reached forward to gently tilt Thomas' head back.  "Fry, where'd you put those extra towels earlier?"

            "The ones for Brenda?"

            "Yeah, didn't you have a few spare ones here that you kept in your bag?"

            "They might be in the trunk, but I think she used them all."

            "What the hell was she possibly using them for?"

            “Do I look like I know?” Fry snapped back over a laugh.

            Thomas pushed Newt’s hands away.  “You’re gonna get blood on you.”  
  
            “Right, because that’s the first time that’s happened,” Newt said. 

            Thomas felt Newt’s absence a second later when he slunk into the backseat again. It took everything in Thomas not to turn in his seat to look back at him.  But the last thing he needed was a black eye to go with this new development.

            “Move your hand,” Newt said, returning to his spot between the seats.

            “You know,” Thomas said stuffily, staring at the roof of the truck, “all the crap you give me for not wearing my seatbelt and here you are, practically standing in the truck.”

            “Well, someone has to clean up after your mistakes,” Newt laughed.  “Tilt your head forward and spit. You’re gonna choke.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow, but leaned forward.  Sure enough, he tasted the copper tang in the back of his throat before he spat it into some balled up fabric in front of him.

            “Gross,” Newt mumbled behind him.

            Thomas didn’t bother with a response.

            “Back up,” Newt said, tilting Thomas’ head up again.

            This continued for a few minutes until Newt instructed Thomas to hold his nose to stem the blood flow.

            “How do you know so much about this?” Thomas asked while holding his nose closed and simultaneously breathing through his mouth.

            “You’d be surprised how many times this happened back in the Glade.”  
  
            “Or not,” Frypan laughed.

            Newt snorted somewhere behind Thomas, punctuated with a zipping sound.

            Thomas closed his eyes as he leaned his head back, breathing out of his mouth and continuing to hold his nose. 

 

            When they finally reached the bottom of the Cliffs, Thomas was able to breathe, albeit a bit stuffily, through his nose again.  The sun had dipped low beneath the horizon just a few hours before.  Thomas instructed Frypan to find a good area off to the side to set camp for the night.  The trucks rolled on until they found some shelter beneath large rock formations and they parked the truck in front of them, the others following close behind.

            “Good a spot as any,” Frypan shrugged as he hopped out from the truck.

            Thomas nodded as he slid out of the truck, a yawn escaping.

            The others began to gather around the rocks, some laying out blankets while others pulled out packets of food and tossed them throughout the group.  Thomas looked up as Harriet passed a bag of something crisped toward him and it almost slipped out of his hands as his eyes snagged elsewhere. His gaze shot to the left when he heard the sound of a zipper and he looked to see Newt shrug his jacket off to reveal a bare torso, taut lines of muscle cording across his back as he disappeared around the other end of the truck.

            Thomas pulled his gaze back to the packet in his hands. There was still a bit of dried blood on his hands from his nosebleed and part of him thought back to the events in the truck. 

            “Thomas, you doing okay?”

            He looked up to Frypan and only then did he realize he was staring way too closely at his hands.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

            “How’s your nose?”

            “It’s fine,” Thomas laughed. 

            “Alright,” Frypan laughed.  “We got all the blankets set up.  Jorge and I thought maybe two people should be on watch for the night.”

            “Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea,” Thomas nodded.

            “I’ll do it,” Newt said, joining them.

            Thomas glanced at him, gaze landing on the dark green shirt before it shot up to Newt’s face again. “You?”

            “Yeah,” he shrugged.

            “I’ll go with you,” Thomas said.

            “Thomas,” Newt shook his head, “you look like you’re going to fall over any minute.  Get some sleep.”

            “I’m fine,” he insisted.

            Newt only looked at him in response as Frypan fidgeted in front of them.  Thomas fought the urge to roll his eyes, fought the urge to tell them it was one time and one time only and that he’d learned from his mistake. 

            Regardless, another yawn fought its way out of his mouth.

            Newt smiled.  “Sleep, Tommy. You’re exhausted.”

            “And you?” Thomas asked.

            “I slept in the truck,” Newt shrugged.  He looked over his shoulder then.  “Besides, Brenda is straight awake anyway so she’d probably be attentive enough in case I do drift to sleep.”

            Thomas eyed Brenda across the camp where she leaned against Jorge’s truck with arms crossed in front of her.  True, she was the only one who didn’t seem to be fighting back yawns.  But then, she also had deep, shadowed circles beneath her eyes.

            Thomas was ready to object when Frypan spoke up.  “Might be good, actually, to have something to keep her busy.” He shrugged.  “She could probably use the Watch as something to do and something to keep her mind focused.”

            Thomas pressed his lips together in a line. 

            “I’m gonna go lay down,” Frypan sighed.  “I’ll see one of you over there I’m sure.  Don’t spend the entire night bickering over this.”

            Thomas scoffed as Frypan walked away but kept his eyes on Newt.  “Are you sure you’re okay to be up all night?”

            “Yes,” Newt nodded.  “Like I said, Brenda is probably wide awake enough for the both of us.  Besides,” Newt shuffled.  “I’m thinking maybe she might want to be around someone she’s not too close to, yeah?”

            “What?” Thomas’ brow furrowed.

            “I just mean,” Newt ran a hand through his hair.  “I mean that she’s been checked on constantly by Jorge. Josh, Bernard and even Fry were all close to Matt, too. I just think maybe she needs someone who she doesn’t really care about being strong in front of.”

            Thomas shook his head but before he could respond, Newt continued.

            “You know that’s me, Tommy.  You and her have a connection that you built together.  She and I never really had that.  She’s not gonna care about how she comes off to me.  It might let her feel like she can show a little weakness, yeah?”  
  
            Thomas stayed still for a minute considering his words and then sighed his resignation.  He had to admit it made sense. Brenda had a habit of putting on a mask.  It made sense she wouldn’t want to make Thomas, Jorge or Frypan worry.  She wouldn’t want to break in front of Josh or Bernard because the situation was too close to them.  Harriet and Vince were strong in her own regard and it occurred to Thomas that Newt was probably the perfect person for her to talk to.  For her to relax with.

            There was no one else Thomas would feel that way with.

            “See?” Newt asked, smile broadening.  “Get some sleep.  It’ll be morning before you know it.”

            Thomas closed his eyes at the brief brush of a kiss against his cheek.  He reached out to grab Newt’s fingers before he turned away fully.  “If you get tired, wake someone up to take your spot and come sleep.”

            Newt smiled.  “I will.”  
  
            Thomas stepped forward and pressed his own kiss to Newt’s mouth before walking off toward the comforter.

            He curled on his side, lifted the gray hooded jacket over him as a blanket, and fell asleep alone for the first time in weeks.

 

            Thomas woke up under the heat of the Scorch sun.  After so many nights in the Cliffs, he’d grown used to the cool morning breeze, and now the heat felt nauseating.  He kicked off the sweater and rolled over onto his back, tossing an arm over his eyes.  The small thrum of pain faded quickly from his shoulder and he allowed himself a small bit of happiness at how fast his body was healing.

            “Oi, you awake?”

            Thomas grunted back at Newt.

            There was a small laugh as a response as the comforter shifted next to Thomas.  “We should get moving soon unless you want to stay here until you melt.”

            Thomas grunted again.

            “Come on,” Newt said softly.

            Thomas felt a hand gently grasp his forearm and lift is back from its resting spot on his eyes.  He squinted up at Newt.  “Did you get any sleep?”

            Newt’s smile quirked up just a bit more before he shook his head.  “Looks like you slept enough for the both of us.”

            “Doesn’t feel like it,” Thomas groaned as he pulled himself to sit up.

            “Here,” Newt reached next to him and handed over a canteen.  “Drink some water and we can get moving.”

            Thomas took a long swig from the cool water in the canteen, feeling every bit of it slink through him.  He screwed the lid back on and handed it back to Newt, finally looking at him.  Now that he was sitting up, he could see him clearer, and the shadowed circles and hollow cheeks unnerved him. There was something off about the way Newt smiled, something forced and pointed about it.  Thomas tilted his head.  “Is everything okay?”

            “Yeah,” Newt nodded.  “Just worried you were in a coma there for a bit.” He pushed himself to stand and grabbed the small backpack next to Thomas.  “Come on,” he nodded toward the trucks.  “Let’s get a move on, yeah?”  
  
            Thomas took in Newt’s stance first, the uneasy smile.  But he only nodded.  If Newt had something on his mind, he would tell Thomas when he was ready.  Thomas pushed himself up to stand shifting his gaze a bit from Newt.  “I’ll be there in a second,” he told him.

            Newt nodded and walked off toward the truck to help Frypan load one of the comforters into the trunk.

            Thomas made his way toward Brenda.

            “Morning,” she said, shouldering the gate of Jorge’s truck closed.

            “Morning,” Thomas responded, pushing it into a locked position.

            “Thanks,” she said, rubbing her shoulder.  “Stupid thing gets jammed all the time.”

            “How was the Watch?”

            Brenda shrugged, shifting her gaze a bit past Thomas to the last blanket still lying in the sand.  “It was fine.”

            Thomas turned and followed her to the blanket.  “Just fine?”

            “Yeah, Thomas,” she said, a confused look painted on her face.  “It was fine.”

            “Nothing weird happened?”

            Brenda sighed, pushing her long bangs from her eyes, and then let her arms cross in front of her.  “What are you asking, Thomas?”

            “Nothing, I’m just-”

            “Are you asking for a detailed report on what we saw? Sand. Lots of sand.  There were some rocks. And then there was more sand.”

            Thomas bit down.  “And you and Newt?”

            Brenda blinked.  “Are you serious?”

            “Is everything okay with you two?”

            “Was it ever not?” She uncrossed her arms and bent down to pick up the blanket.

            “I don’t know.  You two never really talk, I guess.  I just want to make sure everything was fine.”  
  
            “Yes, Thomas,” Brenda nodded.  “Everything is fine.  I think Newt just needed to spend time with someone he’s not close to.”

            It was Thomas’ turn to blink this time.  “What?”

            “It’s not meant to be mean,” Brenda shrugged as she finished folding the blanket in her arms.  “Just that sometimes it’s easier to talk to people you aren’t close with, you know?”

            Something sunk in Thomas’ chest.   “Yeah,” he nodded.  “I know.”

            She offered a small smile.  “Don’t worry, you’re still his dumb favorite.”

            Thomas barely had the focus to respond with a quip.  Instead, he nodded and opened the door for her as she stuffed the blanket inside.  “And you?”

            “I wouldn’t say you’re my favorite,” she laughed. “But you’re up there, sure.”

            “You know what I mean.”

            Brenda sighed, fingers idly tracing the groove of a dent.  “Been better, but I’m good.”

            “Okay,” Thomas scratched at his neck.  “And if I didn’t believe you?”

            Brenda huffed through her nose.  “Look, Thomas, Matt was cool.”

            The name shot through Thomas like a bullet.

            “We got along, had fun.  But it’s not devastating.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow.  “Weren’t you two close?”

            Brenda dropped her hand from the dent in favor of crossing her arms.  She shrugged as she spoke. “Sure, but it wasn’t anything life altering.  We didn’t let ourselves get close.  The world doesn’t allow for that.”

            Thomas tilted his head.

            “Look around you, Thomas.  The world is a disaster waiting to snatch up everything it can from you.  We both understood that.  There’s no sense in getting close to people when you know they can be ripped away from you at any point.”

            Thomas’ mind ricocheted back and then forward again.  He swallowed.  “It’s not that often you get a second chance,” he said.

            “Sometimes you just need to do things on the first,” Brenda smiled back.  “So you’re not just a pretty face.  You do listen.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “But that’s contradictory.”

            Brenda tilted her head.  “How?”

            “You say that you have to take advantage, that you might not get second chances. Then why do you hold back?”

            Brenda shook her head.  “I wasn’t holding back, Thomas.  That was the point.  I just know, now, not to let it get to that point. So now it doesn’t.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            Brenda turned to look around them before sighing.  She dropped her gaze to her boots.  “Look, I get it.  I get the wonder of it all, the romance of it.  But I’ve been there.  I’ve done all that.  And the world ripped her away from me in an instant.  And I swore I’d never let myself go through that again.”

            Thomas fought the urge to reach out to her.

            “So, I get it.  Trust me, I do,” she looked pointedly over his shoulder and Thomas fought the urge to follow her gaze.  He didn’t have to, he knew who stood in the distance.  “I just also get the other side of it.  And it sucks.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze to the ground below them. 

            “I still see her.”

            Thomas looked back up.

            “Often,” Brenda nodded, eyes distant.  “Still hear her, can practically _feel_ her.  It’s like she was never gone.  Like she isn’t gone.  I swear,” she laughed, her eyes returning to Thomas.  “I swear sometimes it feels like she’s really here, breathing next to me.  I can feel her fingers laced with mine and her voice in my ears.  Just normal conversation, too.  She’ll complain about the heat.  She’ll ask how my leg’s healing.  Anything.”

            Thomas swallowed this information down.  Untold stories slowly revealed.

            “I know it sounds stupid and maybe crazy,” she laughed.  “I don’t know, maybe it’s the leftover bits of the Flare talking.” She shook her head.  “But it started before then.  She’d come to me.  Curl up in the truck, join me on a night watch.” 

            Silence settled between them as Brenda faded to a finish.  Thomas waited, not wanting to interrupt.

            Brenda snorted.  “It’s probably the Flare, but whatever it is, it keeps her close.  And I’ll take it.”  
  
            “What was her name?” Thomas asked.

            Brenda squinted up at him and he watched the thoughts go by in her eyes.  Finally, she slowly shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

            Thomas felt his face shift.

            “Don’t,” Brenda laughed.  “Don’t pity me, or feel sad.  I’ve lived with this longer than I’ve known you.  I know how to move past it.  I know how to listen to her when she talks and how to shut her out when I need to.” Brenda swallowed.  “And I know when to cut myself off from people so it never gets to that point again.”

            Thomas felt something split inside of him.

            “I know when to back away from people and keep a distance,” Brenda shrugged.  “Like I said, this world isn’t built for closeness.”  
  
            “What about us?”

            Brenda squinted up at him again.  “I’ve learned that lesson, Thomas.  You’re the one who keeps insisting you’re gonna save everyone,” she laughed, giving a light punch to his chest.

            Thomas couldn’t bring himself to share the laugh this time.

            “Listen, this is just me.  And I clearly lived a different life than you.  I will live a different life than you,” he gestured to her leg where, beneath her jeans, light pink scars shone brightly against her skin.  “Don’t take what I do for myself and ruin your happiness because of it.  We all live differently, Thomas.”

            “But you don’t have to.”  
  
            “But that’s what makes us all our own, isn’t it?”

            Thomas worked her words over in his head.

            “Let’s get a move on, we’re wasting daylight,” she said, a small smirk crawling up her face.  “Go share the backseat.”

            Thomas wanted to laugh.  He really wanted to.  Instead, he dropped his gaze.  “See you in a bit.”

            Brenda nodded.

 

            The trucks rolled on throughout the Scorch for more hours.  Thomas had offered Newt shotgun again, but Newt insisted he take the back bench so he could sprawl out and catch up on sleep.  Thomas couldn’t help but agree.  Anything to see those shadows disappear. 

            With Newt resting, he didn’t have much to distract from Brenda’s conversation.  He wondered who the girl was, who Brenda saw every day around her.  He wondered if what she said held weight to it.  _The world doesn’t allow for closeness._ He swallowed the words down as he leaned forward and focused his attention on the radio dial instead. He spun and spun until he found a station with a signal.  They listened to some older man go on about weather patterns for a bit before Thomas leaned forward and spun the dial again.  They found another station and, after a few seconds of static, words came through clear and Newt’s voice rang out from the backseat.  “That’s the rebel station.”

            “Hmm?” Thomas asked, turning in his seat.

            Newt was still lying on his back across the bench, legs bent to fit himself comfortably.  His eyes were closed as he spoke.  “The rebel alliance? Forgot their name.  The ones who told us about The North Force.”

            “Did they have a name?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas shrugged, putting the volume up.

            _“-ack and forth and always the same gray containers.  That was the third one in the past two weeks, which may not seem like a lot, but it’s more than there’s been in the last month.  It looks like they’re const……….orth…….”_

“What happened?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas furrowed his brow at the radio.  “Signal’s cutting out.”

            “Shift it the slightest bit left,” Newt said.

            Thomas glanced at him, but his eyes were still closed where he was lying down.  Thomas shifted the dial a small bit left.

            _“...is we..…know…..”_

“A little to the right now,” Newt said.

            Thomas turned it back to the right.

            _“..to find out.  Remember that everything they do is intentional.  We will find out what cargo they’re so desperately moving.  And we’ll rip it from them and destroy it.”_

Thomas turned to the back.  “They’re talking about WCKD?”  
  
            Newt shrugged against the seat, eyes still closed.  “Probably.”

            “WCKD is moving cargo?” Frypan asked.

            “I guess,” Thomas furrowed his brow at the radio, but the broadcast seemed to end.

            “They only talk for a little bit at a time,” Newt spoke up.  “After a few minutes, it will start repeating.”

            Thomas turned the radio off, Brenda’s words still swimming in his head.  “This isn’t helping.”

            “No,” Newt sighed.  “It’s not.”

 

            When night descended on them again and they got too frustrated relying on the single headlight of the truck, Thomas instructed Frypan to pull over again, which he was all too grateful for.  Thomas figured an entire day of driving could be draining, but they had to do it.  He made it a point to try to learn himself, if only to take some of the responsibility from Frypan.

            They rolled out blankets again and Thomas took a few minutes to the side to work out the bunched muscles in his shoulder.  Sitting for those long hours in the car without stretching it out probably wasn’t helping his muscles heal as they should.  He spent a few minutes lifting and lowering his arm, and then a few more moments lifting and lowering his arm as he held his backpack.  It wasn’t too weighted, most of the supplies taken out for the night, but it was still some weight added to his arm.  It would do.

            He spent time after dinner watching Newt go around the camp making sure everyone’s supplies were full.  Thomas couldn’t tell if it was a way to keep himself busy or a way to distract the others from the hopelessness that dawned on all of them now that they were back down in the Scorch, but he didn’t interrupt him.  Somehow, this felt like something important to Newt.  There was something draining about the vast expanse of the empty world around them.  Thomas was, yet again, reminded why Newt held his title back in the Glade. 

            He continued watching him from afar as Newt sat to the side next to Joe’s truck and took apart yet another flashlight.  He slid out the inside springs and attachments, eyeing them and sizing them up against one another.  At some point, he’d stood up to wander over to Jorge’s truck, inspecting the grates that Josh helped put up the other day in place of the broken windows.

            He heard the sand shift next to him and he turned to see Brenda settling in in the empty space next to him. 

            “How’s it going over here?”

            Thomas shrugged, turning back to watch Newt.  “It’s fine.”

            “Are you fine?”

            Thomas’ brow furrowed.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

            Brenda shrugged.  “I just want to check.  This is the first time I’ve seen you two not attached at the hip.”

            Something sunk in Thomas’ chest again. 

            Brenda sighed.  “This is about what I said earlier, isn’t it?”  
  
            Thomas shook his head.

            “Thomas, I told you – things are different for me.  You two are different.  The world won’t rip you apart from each other.”

            “Did you know it’d take Matt from you?” Thomas turned to her now.

            She dropped her gaze.  “Thought I’d be the one taken from him, to be honest.”

            Thomas swallowed against the tight knot in his throat.

            “He seemed a bit preoccupied last night,” Brenda said, squinting back over at Newt.

            Thomas turned to look at Newt again.  “What do you mean?”

            “I don’t know, just asking a lot of questions.  It seemed like he was trying to distract himself from something.”

            “Questions about what?”

            Brenda shook her head, brow furrowing.  “I don’t even know.  It’s like he was talking in circles.  He mostly kept the conversation on me, though.”  She turned to him.  “Did you put him up to it?”

            “Me?”

            “Making him talk to me?”

            “No,” Thomas said, brows lifting.  “He was the one who insisted he take the Watch with you.”

            Brenda nodded before she turned to look at Newt again.

            “Did it help?” Thomas asked.

            Brenda looked at him now.  “No, it didn’t.” She pressed her lips together before she continued.  “Because I don’t need help, Thomas.  What I need is for everyone to stop staring at me like I’m gonna break down.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze.  “Sorry.”  A silence fell between them.  “I guess I haven’t been too helpful.”

            Brenda snorted.  “Funny enough, you’re probably the one person who’s been most helpful.”

            Thomas snorted.  “I haven’t even done anything.”

            “That’s sorta the point,” she shrugged.  “You’ve just kept this level head, kept your focus forward.  You’re the only one who’s moving the group forward and keeping everyone on track.  It’s nice.  It’s what we all need.”

            Thomas rested his hand on his leg.  “I didn’t really know what else to do.”

            “There wasn’t much else to do,” Brenda shrugged.

            Another silence dropped between them for a moment before Brenda was moving again.  “Your loverboy is coming back.  I’m gonna get some sleep.”

            Before Thomas could object to a number of things that he wanted to, she was walking off and exchanging a glance with Newt as he got closer to Thomas.

            “What was that about?” Newt asked, using the truck to lower himself next to Thomas.

            “No idea,” Thomas shook his head.

            “Right then,” Newt nodded.

            “What was _that_ about?” Thomas asked, nodding to Jorge’s truck and then eyeing the flashlight in Newt’s hand.

            Newt shrugged.  “Gave me something to do, I guess.”

            Thomas watched something ripple across his features.  He wondered briefly if Brenda had been onto something.  If perhaps Newt was preoccupied.  If Matt’s death had hit him harder than he’d let on, or if it was something else entirely.  Something…

            Thomas swallowed.  He didn’t want to finish that thought.  Wouldn’t let himself.

            “And it made me tired,” Newt smiled at him.  “Harriet and Vince are taking the Watch tonight.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “Which means,” Newt continued, shifting forward on the blanket, “we get to sleep.” He lowered himself and leaned back against Thomas.

            Instinctively, Thomas shifted an arm and let it curl itself around Newt, holding him into his side against his chest.  Something loosened there as he let himself feel a bit more at ease.  Whatever was scratching at Newt’s mind, it wasn’t him.  He let himself selfishly enjoy that knowledge, pushing away the part of him that so desperately wanted to ask, wanted to know.

            He leaned back against the truck’s wheel, tightening his arm around Newt, and tilted his head down a bit to rest on Newt’s as he drifted to sleep.  That night, he dreamt of the Glade.

 

            There were never trains in the Glade, but for some reason, Thomas could hear them clanking around him.  Metal and scraping something or other.  A murmured swear or two under breath could be heard once in a while and Thomas wondered vaguely why Newt was so annoyed with the trains. 

            Something clanged louder.

            Thomas pulled his eyes open and looked around him for the source of the noise.  He saw Josh at the front of the truck and when Thomas leaned forward to look beneath the truck, he could see someone crouched next to him, brown boots and dusty jeans the only things visible.  He registered the empty space next to him and then pushed himself up. 

            He ran a hand down his face as he made his way over.  When he stepped past Josh, he blinked at the scene.  And then he blinked again.  “Newt?” he asked, sleep still heavy in his throat.  

            “Morning, Tommy,” Newt strained back at him.

            Thomas blinked a third time.  “What are you doing?”

            Newt scrunched his face up at Thomas as he continued to reach for something.  Thomas couldn’t tell what he was reaching for, due to the fact that his arm was buried shoulder-deep into a hole in the truck where the headlamp should be.  “Trying to…fix this.” His voice continued to strain as he stretched further inside the hole.

            “Did you get any sleep?”

            “Some, yes,” Newt coughed.  “But I kept thinking about the headlights. Had a burst of inspiration and didn’t wanna lose it.”

            Thomas turned to Josh.  “And you?”

            Josh shrugged.  “I switched Watch with Harriet halfway through.  When I saw Newt fidgeting over here I came to check it out.”

            Thomas turned back to Newt and eyed the random bits of supplies around him: wires, glass casings, flashlights taken apart.  “Won’t we need those?”

            “Not anymore hopefully.”

            “He’s been going all morning,” Josh nodded up to the top of the truck.

            Thomas looked up to see two giant lamps attached to the top of the truck.  “Where did those even come from?”

            “We had them in the boxes still from the supply runs.  Newt went through them the other night and pulled a few out.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Is this what you do when you can’t sleep?  You know, normal people just go for a walk.”  
  
            “Do they, Tommy?” Newt quipped, but his grin betrayed him.  There were no harsh feelings there anymore and something inside Thomas felt relief at that.  “Got it!”  Newt unwrapped himself from the truck, black marks and a small scratch along his arm.  He replaced the headlight cover.  There was a strip of medical tape wrapped around where the crack had been. 

            Thomas rose his brows, eyeing the truck. 

            “Josh, turn it on,” Newt instructed, pulling himself up by the grate of the truck.

            Josh jogged over to the driver’s seat and a moment later the ignition turned and the engine revved.

            The lights did not go on.

            “Did it work?” Josh asked, excitedly.

            Newt furrowed his brow, and Thomas nearly caved when he saw Newt’s shoulders deflate. 

            “Are you sure everything’s connected?” Thomas asked, voice small.

            Newt tilted his head, hands perching on his hips.  “Yeah, I did… I did everything so carefully.”

            Thomas sighed through his nose, wishing he had anything to offer up.  His knowledge of cars was slim to none.  He wished he’d listened to Fran more.

            Newt lifted a leg and stomped his boot against the grate of the truck, evidently hoping to rattle something inside of it.

            Thomas reached a hand out lightly to Newt’s back to help him re-steady himself.

            “OH shit!” Josh called out from the driver’s seat, reaching forward for something.

            Thomas looked up at him and then immediately shielded his eyes as the lights burst to life in front of him. 

            “Bleeding hell, Josh!”

            “They work!”

            “Bit of a warning next time, yeah?”

            “Whatever, be happy,” Josh called back out to them.

            Thomas lowered his arm and squinted into the headlights.  Now that they were on, Thomas could see that two smaller lights were attached at the bottom as well, giving them a total of six headlights.  “Shit, Newt,” Thomas laughed, softly.  “Plan on driving through a massive black hole any time soon?”

            Newt shrugged.  “At least now we have the option.”

            Thomas met his eyes and felt his mouth curl up into a smirk on one side.  He let out another huff of a laugh as Newt turned back to Joe’s truck, grinning at his work. 

            “Hey!” Josh yelled.  “That rebel group is going on about something again!”

            Thomas and Newt walked around to the driver’s side of the truck, leaning in the open doorway as they listened to more reports about cargo being transported.

            “You know,” Newt said, “it’d be nice to hear something relevant on here for once.”

            “Agreed,” Josh nodded. “All they talk about anymore is trains and cargo.  Who cares what supplies WCKD is transferring about?”

            Thomas’ heart slowed as everything around him became muffled.  He replayed the earlier report in his head coupled with this one.  The sound rushed back in as his focus returned.  “This is it.”

            Newt turned to him.  “What’s it?”

            “The cargo,” Thomas breathed.  “The trains.”  He looked up to Josh and then to Newt.  “The trains are transferring cargo for WCKD.”

            “Yeah,” Newt said slowly, almost questioning. 

            “Think about it.  They’ve gotta be moving the cargo from somewhere!  Probably one of their facilities.  Which means they’re also moving it _to_ somewhere.”

            “To a new facility,” Newt said, catching on.

            Thomas nodded.

            “Holy shit,” Josh breathed.  “So, it is relevant.”

            “We need a map with railways on it,” Thomas said.  “We have to figure out what tracks they’re using.”

            “There can’t be many,” Newt furrowed a brow as he turned away from the truck.

            Thomas shook his head, leading the way to the others.  “I doubt it.  I can’t imagine many people are shipping things around the desert.  I don’t even know that many people would have access to entire trains.”

            “Where would we even find a map with railways on it?” Josh asked, jogging to catch up with them.

            “I don’t know,” Thomas shook his head.  “But if we can’t get to a map, we need to get to people.  Anyone who might’ve seen a train, heard one.  Anything that could lead us in the right direction.”  
  
            “So we’re looking for a town, then,” Newt clarified.

            Thomas paused, shrugging.  “I guess so.”

            “What about that town we were in?” Josh asked.

            Thomas shook his head.  “That’s way too far East now.  It would take us weeks to get back there even if we didn’t take the Cliffs.”

            “So, we keep moving west,” Newt shrugged.  “There’s gotta be people out this way too.”

            “Isn’t the Safe Haven supposed to be west?” Josh asked.  “There’s gotta be groups of people moving out that way.  Any of them could have seen a train.”

            “Or tracks,” Newt shrugged.

            “Okay.  We head west, we find the nearest town,” Thomas nodded.

            Newt smiled, eyeing the new headlamps.  “As long as Fry’s gotten enough rest, we can drive late into the night, too.”

            Thomas chewed his lip.  “I think it’s time we all start learning to pull our share of driving.”

            “I can drive,” Josh offered.

            “You what?” Thomas turned to him.

            Josh shrugged.  “Nobody ever asked.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! Finally. The chapter is up. 
> 
> \- Thomas’ Bloody Nose: Okay literally, this was a horrible accident lmao this was wildly unplanned and just happened on a whim when I was doing a race-against-the-clock-writing-drill and…. poor Thomas suffered because of it. I initially planned on taking it out in the revision - and I did at first - but I tried playing with it a bit more and got to reference the Glade some more and it also got Newt shirtless for a moment >_> Which, let’s be honest, that’s the important thing, here. 
> 
> \- Newt and Brenda!! They have some time here. Hours and hours in the Night Watch. Hmmm, must’ve been some amusing conversations…..
> 
> \- Brenda’s Talk: This moment is very important to the theme of TMH. So, just remember her story. That’s all I’ll say about that.
> 
> \- Being back in the Scorch means they’re back to radio signals. This could be….beneficial… 
> 
> \- Don’t worry!! Newt and Thomas are absolutely fine! (See: Newt using Thomas as a pillow) They’re just both very preoccupied right now also. It’s been four months now and they’re still no closer to Minho, they’ve lost two people, they’re running out of food. Not many positive vibes about.
> 
> \- Newt the Repair Man: Fixing up Joe’s truck! (Which, I realized I never actually wrote it in here… but for anyone looking for a Fun Behind-The-Scenes Fact: Joe’s truck’s name is Lola.) Newt spent plenty of time watching Joe work with wires and such. He picked up a couple things. 
> 
> \- Ffs, Josh. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience. A bunch of things going on over here, but chapters WILL go up (even if they’re a bit late here and there). I’m working on trying to get ahead for a bit, but we’ll see how that actually goes. No promises. It seems like every time I talk about my schedule, it goes haywire.
> 
> Anyway, back to the fic.. we’re officially in month 4! Only a bit of time left now.. 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who has been trekking along with me and the group this far. You are all so so wonderful <3 I cannot express how much your support means to me. You all keep me going :)


	28. On Caps and Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Timing Sucks

 

 

            When the beat-down town came into view nearly an entire day later, Thomas unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled himself forward to look out of the windshield between the two front seats.  It looked the same as the towns they had stayed in on the other side of the Cliffs and a nostalgia Thomas tried to ignore roiled in his gut.

            He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and turned to his left to see Newt with a small curve of a smile on his face that Thomas couldn’t help but mirror with his own.  “What is it?” he laughed.

            Newt tugged on the back of his shirt again a bit harder and Thomas slid back in the space between him and Frypan.  “What is it?” Thomas repeated.

            Newt’s smile just grew as he shook his head.  He reached over Thomas then and slipped his hand in the sliver of space between Thomas and Frypan.

            Thomas didn’t think about the hitch in his breath as Newt leaned over him.  Nor did he look at the stretch of Newt’s neck, lines taught and dusted with small flecks of dirt. Instead, he watched as Newt pulled the seatbelt over his waist and buckled it in the fastener between their hips.  He lifted his gaze to meet Newt’s, smile still ever-present. 

            “Really?”  
  
            “Yes, really.”

            Thomas settled comfortably into the seat, slid a bit lower and then leaned over just enough to rest his head on Newt’s shoulder.  “Fine,” he said, just beneath the sounds of the truck. “Now you deal with me sleeping on you.”

            He felt a small shake of Newt’s shoulder as he laughed.  “Small price to pay.”

            Thomas closed his eyes to moss and mint.

            Small price to pay, indeed.

 

***  
  
            When Newt shook him awake however much time later, Thomas pulled himself up to see that they were driving through the town now – flaky scaffolding and hanging shutters on either side of the road made up the places people of the Scorch had come to call home.  Thomas waited until they were a good distance deep into the town before he told Josh to stop the car.

            Josh pulled over on the left-hand side and Thomas turned to watch as Vince and Brenda did the same with the trucks following.

            “What’s the plan?” Bernard asked, turning to look at Thomas over his shoulder.

            “Get out, look around,” Thomas shrugged. “See if we can meet anyone who knows anything about trains or how far from here they run.”

            “You think we should grab more supplies too?” Frypan asked.

            “Supplies for what?”

            Frypan looked at him.  “I don’t know, anything?”

            Thomas considered the amount of room left in the trucks.  He felt a strike of guilt shoot through his chest as he considered the space for supplies they’d just recently acquired.  He swallowed.  “Let’s just see what the people know first.”

            He slid out of the truck behind Newt and stepped into the steady heat.  He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it back into the truck with the others’. 

            “Nice to know there’s an airflow here,” Newt sighed cynically, squinting above them.

            Thomas opened his mouth to speak and breathed in a mouthful of heat. His shirt was like a comforter around him without the breeze.

            “Thank god we found that water,” Bernard sighed, already unscrewing his canteen.

            “Let’s just start moving,” Thomas finally got out.

            They spent the better part of the afternoon asking around to anyone who would listen.  Where the trains were, did they know anything about them, how far to the nearest tracks.  Most people just answered with a silent shake of their heads.  Some were a bit more helpful.  One young woman pointed out a group of kids off to the side who were able to tell Thomas that the trains seemed to run on a set schedule twice a day, but they didn’t know what day the next one would be.

            “Thanks,” Thomas smiled at them, ignoring the odd smile he received from one of the girls. 

            “Well,” Newt sighed, wiping sweat off his brow with his wrist yet again, “at least we got something out of them.”

            “Twice a day,” Thomas repeated.  “Just wish we knew where.”

            “I can help you find the tracks,” a distantly familiar voice drawled. “For a price.”

            Thomas turned to the boy standing in the shadowed doorway of a tall building.  He narrowed his eyes to try to get a better look, but the boy pushed off the wall then and stepped forward.

            Thomas didn’t know when his hands curled into fists, but suddenly he was aware of the way his blunted nails were pressing into his palms.  “Micah,” Thomas greeted him.

            “Hey there, Leader.”

            Micah’s eyes were more shadowed than Thomas could remember, cheeks hollowed.

            “Where’s the rest of your pack?”

            “Where’s yours?” Thomas asked.

            Micah shrugged.  “Around.”

            Thomas shrugged.  “Ours too.” He tensed at the sneer Micah responded with, but more than that – Thomas tensed at the black lines curling forward from the back of Micah’s neck beneath the collar of his shirt.

            “So, these trains,” Micah began.  “You want to know where they are?”

            “I want to know where they’re coming from,” Thomas corrected him.

            Micah tilted his head to the side in a mocking manner, pulling a thoughtful face.  “Hmm, what a question.”  
  
            “Quit the cryptic answers, Slinthead.  What do you want?” Newt growled.

            Micah’s eyes shifted over Thomas’ shoulder to Newt.  “Stand down, guard dog. I’ve moved on from petty theft.”

            “Have you?”

            Micah’s eyes slid back to Thomas’.  He spoke through his smirk.  “I want into the Safe Haven.”

            Thomas simply shrugged.  “Too bad, not going to the Safe Haven.  We’re heading to WCKD.”

            There were footsteps behind Thomas and his eyes slid to the thin shadow approaching.

            “But you’ll be headed there after you get your friend back,” Rebecca said as she walked into view and stood next to Micah.  “Don’t bother denying it, your entire group spilled the plan last time we met.”  
  
            “Yeah,” Newt answered.  “And if I remember correctly, you were meant to be heading to the Safe Haven the following morning with a group. What happened?”

            Thomas’ heart jolted.  Did Fran and the others never make it?

            Micah angled his head and pulled at the collar of his shirt to reveal more of the black lines sprawling across his skin over his shoulder.  “Not too many people are willing to travel with a Crank on board.”  
  
            “And you think we are?” Thomas asked.

            “Can you help us get our friend back?” Newt asked.

            “Now you’re asking the right questions,” Micah grinned. “Good dog.”

            Thomas took a slow step forward.  “How about you save the snide bullshit and answer the question before you lose the only people who might consider dragging your sorry ass along?”

            “Oh my god,” Rebecca sighed.  “How do men get anything done?”

            Thomas shifted his eyes to her.

            “We know the tracks,” Rebecca offered over Micha’s protest. “We know the trains.  We’ve been stealing from WCKD for weeks now.”

            “Above petty theft, yeah Micah?” Newt asked.

            Micah ran a tongue along his teeth in response and Thomas smiled as he heard Newt laugh softly behind him.

            “Are you even listening?” Rebecca asked.  “Trains and tracks.  The next one is scheduled in two days.”  
  
            Thomas lifted his head then, focus fully on her now.  “You know where it’s coming from?”

            “Doesn’t matter where it’s coming from,” Rebecca shook her head.  “It matters what’s on it.”

            “It matters to me,” Thomas answered.

            Rebecca and Micah exchanged a look.

            “The more information you give us, the closer we take you to the Haven,” Thomas bartered.

            The two of them eyed him for a moment.

            “There’s a facility,” Micah started.  “I’m not telling you where it is, but it’s where the trains seem to be leaving from.”

            “But there are also multiple smaller locations,” Rebecca added.  “One is a large facility, but the others sound like small outposts.”

            “Sound like?” Newt asked.

            “We can only judge off of what we hear from the people on the train.”

            “There are people on there?”  Thomas asked.

            “Only a few at a time,” Rebecca shook her head.  “Mostly just a conductor and a few guards.”

            “Guards,” Newt repeated.

            “Scrawny men with big guns,” Rebecca clarified.

            “How many outposts are there?” Thomas asked, head spinning.

            “We’re not sure on the number,” she answered.  “Anywhere from five to eight, I’d wager.”

            “And one of them is a facility?”

            “That’s how they refer to it.”

            Thomas finally tore his eyes from the two and turned to look at Newt.  “You think it’s the Scorch Facility?”

            Newt shrugged. “Could be.”

            Thomas turned back to the others. “I want a map of every place these trains go and where the tracks are.”  
  
            Rebecca raised an eyebrow.  “I want in on your Safe Haven trip.”

            “Both of us,” Micah amended.

            Thomas swallowed.  “If we get Minho, you’re in.”

            “And if we don’t?” Micah asked.  “If we go through all of this, get you to WCKD and you find out your friend is dead th-“

            “Then we let you rot in the Scorch,” Newt offered.

            “Newt,” Thomas said, quietly.  He ignored the way Micah’s smirk crept higher on his face.  He turned to Rebecca.  “If you get us to WCKD and we can free the kids they took, you get a passage with us.”

            Rebecca shifted her eyes to Newt and then back to Thomas.  “Deal.”

            “Rebecca,” Micah interjected. “You believe them?”

            “No,” Rebecca said as she stuck her hand out to Thomas.  “But they don’t believe us either.”

            Thomas kept his eyes on hers as he clasped her hand.

 

***

 

            “You’re not serious,” Harriet said.  “There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping in there with them.  You _do_ remember they tried robbing us before, right?”

            “I know,” Thomas sighed.  “But they’re the closest we’ve got to finding the others.”  
  
            “And you offered to bring them to the Safe Haven with us.”

            Thomas shrugged.  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

            “Yes, you did. You could have said no.”

            “Harriet, give it a rest,” Newt sighed.

            She raised a brow at him.

            “We’re doing this for all of us,” he explained.  “They can get us to WCKD’s trains, which will get us to WCKD, which gets us t-”

            “Okay, I get it, Stick, you don’t have to go through the whole agenda.”

            “It’s only two nights,” Thomas added.

            Harriet looked at him for a moment before she came to a decision.  “Fine, but I’m not sleeping in there. I’ll take tonight’s watch.”

            Thomas nodded.  He’d take whatever win he could get.  All he wanted to do was sleep and then get to the trains.

            “You guys ready?” Rebecca called from the doorway.  “I’ll show you the rooms.”

  
  
            “We’ve each pretty much taken our own room,” Rebecca said as Thomas followed her up the crooked stairs of the house.  “But we can bunk up and clear a few up for you guys.  I’m sure Rupert and Isaac can put aside their differences to bunk up.” She turned back to Thomas and snorted. “Or maybe it’s best to keep them in two separate rooms.”

            Thomas didn’t bother with a response.  He didn’t know who those people were or cared what rooms they went in.  Two nights, he kept reminding himself.

            They reached the creaky landing and Rebecca pointed to two doors on the right and one further down the hall.  “Those three can be your rooms.  There’s no furniture, so don’t expect a nice fluffy bed.  But then, you’re not used to that anyway, are you?”

            Thomas, again, didn’t bother with a response.

            “Well,” Rebecca shrugged. “Figure out what you want to do.  I’ll get the others to bunk up in my room and Micah’s. We can discuss our plan tomorrow.” She turned and walked down the stairs.

            “You sure about this, Tommy?”

            Thomas glanced around the old house again.  Broken rafters and splintered wood.  There was a hole in the floor in the far corner by one of the rooms.  But that wasn’t what Thomas was worried about.  “It’ll be fine,” he said.  “It’s just two nights.” 

            Thomas started to wonder if he was repeating it so often to remind the others or himself.

 

            When Thomas, Newt and Frypan finished carrying up the little bit of supplies they decided to take with them, they settled into the first room on the right, which they had claimed for themselves.  Next to them was Brenda and Jorge and at the end of the hall, Josh and Bernard lugged their own sleeping gear into the final room. 

            Thomas looked out of the window and saw the trucks parked outside, Harriet and Vince settled in with shotguns at the ready.  He wondered if they’d actually need them.  He wondered if they’d need one inside of the house instead.

            “I think I almost prefer the sand,” Frypan said, pulling Thomas’ attention back into the room.  “Told you I should’ve kept that bedroll.”

            “I don’t want to hear it,” Newt held up a hand while using the other to smooth out the corner of a spread-out comforter. “We told you that you didn’t have to leave it.”

            “I know,” Frypan sighed.  “Honestly, I’d take a hammock right about now.”  
  
            Thomas was just about able to catch the corner of Newt’s smile as he shuffled around to finish setting up.  “Those hammocks were comfortable.”

            “They were so comfortable,” Frypan said.  “They always smelled so good after laundry day.”

            “Never did quite get that soap mixture from Tim.”

            Thomas leaned against the wall as quietly as he could in the shadow next to the window and watched the two of them set up and laugh about times in the Glade.  He’d spent so much time growing close to Newt, that he often forgot how many memories Newt and Frypan had together. 

            The two exchanged stories and memories and a laugh about a Glader named Jerry when an odd thought struck Thomas.  If he wasn’t the one who’d helped WCKD with the Mazes, if he wasn’t who they claimed he was, would he have been sent up as one of the boys?  Would he have been sent up earlier?  He allowed himself a brief moment to picture a peaceful life in the Glade, perhaps cooking with Frypan or maybe even helping the Medjacks. If he’d been given time to form a life in the Glade, would he have?

            “Tommy, what’re you doing over there?”

            Thomas was pulled back to the ramshackle house in the Scorch and looked over to where Frypan and Newt both watched him curiously.

            “Why’re you standing in the dark?” Newt pressed.

            Thomas shook his head as he pushed off the wall.  “Just letting you guys talk.”

            “Come on, Thomas,” Frypan laughed as he moved over.  “You’re in on this, too.”

            Thomas took his seat a corner of the little triangle they formed on the comforters.

            “Well?” Frypan prompted, smacking his hand on Thomas’ knee.  “Come on. Favorite Glader memory.”

            Thomas raised his brows.  “Me?”

            “Yeah, you,” Frypan laughed. “You were a Glader. Even if it was just for two or three days.”

            Thomas looked down as he tried to think.  He thought of burning huts and screeching metal, Alby tied in vines and doors closing Ben out from view.  He thought of boys he never got the time to know being snatched away, pulled from a life they’d built themselves. They wanted his favorite Glader memory, but how could he give it to them when he didn’t know if he even had one?

            “Hey,” Newt started, nudging Thomas’ knee with his elbow. 

            Thomas looked up to see Newt looking up to the ceiling, mouth hanging slightly open as his eyes watched a memory.

            “What about that time that you beat Gally in the boxing ring?” He looked back down at Thomas, lights in his eyes.

            Frypan let out a short laugh and clapped his hands together.  “Oh, man! I hadn’t seen Gally go down like that in a long time.”  
  
            Thomas watched a smirk grow on Newt’s face as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

            “Chuck,” Thomas said, quietly.

            Frypan’s laugh faded out and Newt’s smirk dropped but his eyes lifted to Thomas’.

            Thomas cleared his throat. “He, uh… I remember him trying to teach me what the Glader slang was and,” Thomas paused as he looked down at his hands, the vision blurred into one of his earlier memories.  “I remember another time that he wanted so bad to come with a few of us into the Maze, to check out that dead Griever. But he was so scared,” Thomas let out a small laugh.  “But he didn’t want to admit it.”

            “You had him keep watch,” Frypan added with a smile.

            Thomas looked up at him.  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

            “Really?” Newt asked. “Is that why he was pacing in front of the doors like that?”

            Thomas laughed. “Hope you didn’t give him too much of a hard time.”

            Newt smile.  “Nah, never Chuckie.”

            “I remember that time he tried to hide everyone’s shoes overnight,” Frypan laughed. “You remember that?”

            “Alby was not too happy about that,” Newt laughed.

            “Wait,” Thomas laughed. “Shoes?”

            “Minho was the one who found out,” Newt smiled. “Imagine the look on his face when – not only could he not find his own shoes, but the others showed up without theirs either.”

            Thomas felt another laugh bubble out of him as Frypan jumped in with another story about someone named Dmitri accidentally locking himself in the Slammer for several hours. Their laughs continued long into the night.

 

***

 

             Thomas woke up to a quiet house in the night hours.  He didn’t recall when he fell asleep, perhaps in the midst of one of the stories.  He barely even remembered lying down.  Yet, here he was, curled up by Newt’s outstretched legs with Frypan on the opposite side.  Thomas pushed himself up to sit and looked up to where Newt had fallen asleep sitting up, leaning back against the wall.

            Thomas reached forward to tug Newt down to rest on the comforter, but it only resulted in Newt instantly waking.

            “Hm? Thomas?”

            “Sh, sh, shh,” Thomas hurriedly quieted him.  “It’s okay, I’m just moving you.  That looks way too uncomfortable,” he laughed.

            Newt grunted before mumbling, “slept worse.”

            “Doesn’t mean you should make a habit of it,” Thomas said as he tugged on Newt’s arm again.  “Come on. We’ve got a few more hours before we need to wake up.”

            Thomas waited as Newt slid from the wall and moved forward to curl onto his side, and then Thomas lied down to do the same, hand still resting on Newt’s arm as they bowed their heads close together and drifted back off.

 

***  
  
            The sun was fully up when Thomas was stirred awake by Newt.  “Already?” he mumbled, pulling himself up.

            “Come on,” Newt laughed.  “Breakfast is working downstairs.”

            He gripped Newt’s hand and pulled himself up, the barest throb of pain in his shoulder. They wandered down the creaking stairs and back out into the heat of the Scorch. 

            “I don’t think I quite took advantage of the shade of that house,” Newt said, eyes practically closed against the sun.

            “Anything to make note of?” Thomas asked Vince as he handed him something sandwiched together.  Thomas eyed it.

            “No,” Vince shook his head.  “Everything seemed... normal. Nothing out of place or weird.  Everyone seemed to behave themselves.”

            “I still don’t like this idea,” Harriet spoke up.  “But since you’re all up now, I’m going to go sleep in the truck.”  
  
            Thomas pointed over his shoulder at the house as he spoke over a bite of the food.  “There are blankets upstairs in the shade.”  
  
            “I’m good.”

            Thomas dropped his hand to his side and swallowed his food. 

            “There’s Harriet for you,” Newt laughed.

            “Hey Thomas!”

            He turned at Rebecca’s voice.

            “When you’re done with breakfast,” she nodded toward the house before she disappeared into it.

            “What’s that about?” Newt asked.

            “I think she wants to start going over the plans,” Thomas said.  He turned back to Newt and held out his sandwich. “You want the rest of this?”

            “I’m good,” Newt shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”  
  
            Thomas nodded.  He gave the rest of his sandwich to Bernard before leading the way into the building.

            Rebecca, Micah and another girl stood there, hovered over a table.

            “What’s going on?” Thomas asked as he approached.

            “Hey Thomas,” Micah said.  His eyes shifted and he grinned.  “Guard Dog.”

            “Micah,” Rebecca warned with a backhand to his arm.  She looked up at Thomas before continuing.  “You wanted a map, here it is.”

            Thomas stepped forward to the table and looked down.  There were lines crisscrossing in various directions, mountain ranges scattered about, and sections squared off with darkened letters printed in each.  It was a bit different than most of the maps Thomas had come across, though there were still various creases and small torn holes throughout.  The edges were stained yellow and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder how long they’d been able to hold onto this map without anything happening to it.

            “This is the crossing point that we’ve been able to catch the trains at every time they come around,” Rebecca said, pointing to a spot to the left on the map.  “Two sets of tracks merge here and there are two trains that get there right around the same time, every time.  One of them is always stopped as the other passes and it gives us time to jump into a car, take what we can, and jump back off without them even knowing.”

            “Quiet as ghosts,” Micah added.

            Thomas’ eyes roved over the map, across the lines.  He tilted his head and then pointed to a range of mountains.  “This is where we were,” he murmured.  “Arka Cliffs.” He dragged his finger along the mountain range and sloped downward, continuing East.  “The Facility has to be over here.”

            “You’ve been there?” Rebecca asked in a way that confirmed Thomas’ suspicions.

            “Months ago,” Thomas said.  “It’s where WCKD kept us before we were able to escape.”

            “Escape?” The other girl said.

            Thomas turned to her, nearly forgetting she was there.

            “And now you want to go back?”

            “Not to that Facility, they’re not there. But wherever else they might have them.”

            “You’re running into the house of the enemy?”

            “They have our friends.  We’re not leaving them to be abandoned.”  
  
            “That’s pretty heroic.”

            “It’s the right thing to do.”

            “Like I said,” she smiled.  “Heroic.”

            Thomas lowered a brow.  “And what, you all just want to jump on the trains to steal supplies?”

            Rebecca shrugged. “Gets us by until we can get to the Safe Haven.”

            Thomas ran a tongue along his teeth.  “When we get to the Safe Haven, you need to stop this.  There’s no stealing from each other when we’re there.  We work as a team, you got that?”

            “When we’re there?” The other girl asked. “Or would you like to start that now?”

            Thomas flicked his gaze to her.  “Yeah, we start now.”

            “Good,” the girl responded. “Then you can stop bringing a weapon every time you come talk to us.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.

            She pointedly looked down and he followed her gaze to Newt’s thigh holster, gun tucked in.

            Newt simply shrugged in response.  “Never said it was for you.”  
  
            Thomas bit down on his grin.  He reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out one of his throwing knives. He unsheathed it and laid it on the table.  “If we were threatened by you in the slightest, we wouldn’t have stayed here.  Regardless, weapons are down.”  Thomas stepped back from the table. “Take it.”  
  
            Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

            The other girl shot an arm out but Rebecca blocked her. “Hold off, Drea.” She lifted her head at Thomas.  “You’re giving us your weapon?”

            “Showing you I’m not afraid. And that I’m going to trust you for this mission.  We’re working together now. All of us.”

            She stared at him another moment before she picked up the knife and handed it to the girl, Drea.  “Easy to give up a knife when you still have a gun.”

            “Rebecca, please,” Thomas shook his head.  “We’re not even focused on you.  We just want to get back at WCKD.  Same as you.”

            “Same as me? I don’t give a damn about WCKD.”

            “Don’t you?” He asked.  He turned to Micah then.  “Don’t _you_?”

            A muscle flickered in Micah’s jaw.

            “Are you gonna tell me you don’t want to get them back for abandoning you to The Flare?”

            Micah dropped his gaze and Thomas considered it a win.

            “So, we’re all in then?”

            “All in, Thomas,” Rebecca said.  “But first, we need to make a stop.”

 

***  
  
            They walked deeper into the town and Thomas’ eyes roved over the neighboring buildings, houses and people.

            “What, no guard dog?” Micah asked on Thomas’ right.

            “No,” Thomas said.  He turned to look at him.  “I wouldn’t say you’re much of a guard anything.”

            Micah laughed and Thomas felt a shiver run through his spine.

            “Leashed him up, did you?”

            “He has his own project that doesn’t concern you,” Thomas said as he faced forward again.  He sped his walk up.  He didn’t owe Micah answers. 

            The truth was, Thomas was a bit worried about Newt.  Yes, Newt had claimed to just be a bit tired from sleeping wrong in the house and also wanted to try to mess with the walkie-talkies again, but Thomas’ mind couldn’t stop wandering back to the vision of him sitting against the tire of Joe’s truck, shadowed eyes screwed up in concentration as he looped wires into antennas.

            The other part of his mind stayed in the moment.  Specifically, it stayed on the families they passed on their walk.  Each small group seemed to have made their own homes in their respective caved in buildings.  There were people cooking over small built fires, some were cleaning in large basins.  Some even seemed to just be relaxing, lying out in the shade of a building.  There were kids younger than Thomas playing a game off to the side with a handful of rocks and their laughter echoed across the little town. Thomas wondered back again to those creeping thoughts.  He wondered if, in another life, he could have been a normal kid with his own house and a family.  He wondered if, one day, maybe that world would be possible for others.

            The street slowly morphed into a central hub of sorts, and Thomas’ gaze moved from small stand to small tent to small hut to small stand.  Each one had hastily written signs: “ _health supplies”, “food”, “tools”,_ etc. labeling what was displayed out on the counter of each.  Some of the signs went so far as to say what they’d accept in exchange, complete with quantities.

            “Anyone who asks for a specific number of things in return, you always want to avoid,” Drea explained next to Thomas.  “They’re usually the ones who will find a slit the size of a fingernail in your wires and dock you six pieces of bread.”

            Thomas looked down at her.

            “You always want to look for the stands that don’t have too much on display, they’re usually the ones who have something to offer.  But,” she said holding a finger up, “you have to look at the person selling, too.  If they’re too eager, it’s a giveaway that they’re bluffing.  You need to find the happy medium.” She nodded forward and then held Thomas’ arm back to keep him from walking.

            Thomas turned to watch Micah and Rebecca walk up to a tent in the corner.  Like Drea explained, there were only two or three items displayed on the counter top, but the person seemed more interested in whatever it was she was writing or drawing than what Rebecca and Micah had to say.

            “She won’t even look at them,” Brenda murmured.

            “That’s the point,” Drea explained. “This lady only comes around once in a while, so we know she usually has something good to sell.  Some of the new people see her as stand offish and they don’t bother, they’re afraid to approach.  It’s a win either way for her.”

            “How do you figure?” Thomas asked.

            “She either gets new supplies, or she keeps what she has.  If you’re satisfied with what you already have, it’s gotta be worth something,” Drea shrugged.

            Thomas looked over Drea’s head and glanced at Brenda before he turned back and craned his neck a bit to the side to watch the exchange.

            Micah had laid out an array of syringes, tubes, and four or five neatly folded towels.  The girl as the stand used her pen to sift through the tubes. As one rolled over, Thomas could clearly see the letters marked in bright yellow around the rubber: WCKD.  After a few words were exchanged, the girl disappeared into the tent.  She appeared a few minutes later with a blanket wrapped around something that she handed over to Micah.  He crouched down to the ground to transport some of it into his backpack as Rebecca talked with the girl some more.

            Thomas just about caught the way Rebecca’s pinkie finger knocked two of the syringes back off the table and into Micah’s open backpack.

            The walk back to camp seemed faster than the walk through the town.  Rebecca filled them in on most of the exchanges that went on in the hub and what most of the worth was.  Usually anything from WCKD itself was worth its weight. 

            Thomas scratched at the back of his neck. “Won’t she notice that she’s two syringes short?”

            Rebecca shrugged. “She doesn’t come around often enough.  And the next time she does, we won’t be here.”  She grinned.

           

            They reached camp to find the others dashing around in scattered directions, darting behind trucks and in the cover of doorways and dumpsters. 

            All except Vince, who leaned on his truck with a smile on his face.

            Thomas jogged over to him.  “What is going o-”

            He was interrupted then by a hand around his arm tugging him backward and around the truck.  He ran after Newt and slid to his knees behind Joe’s truck where Newt crouched.  “Newt what is going on?”

            “Here,” Newt hit Thomas’ fist with his own, which seemed to be clutching something.  “Hold these.”

            Thomas opened his hand and watched as Newt dropped four bottle caps into it.  He opened his mouth to ask when suddenly Harriet’s voice spoke out to them, coated in static.

            “Doe Eyes – come in, Doe Eyes. What’s your position?”

            Thomas blinked.

            Newt reached to the side and unclipped a walkie talkie from his waist.  “South of Lola, Hawk.”

            Thomas blinked again.

            “Have eyes on the Cider Maestro,” Harriet said again. “North West of your Twenty.”

            “Cider Maestro?” Thomas repeated.

            “On it,” Newt spoke into the walkie.  He attached it back at his waistband and slowly lifted himself to look through the back window of the truck.  His hand reached out to Thomas. “Cap me.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Give me one of the caps,” Newt clarified.

            Thomas furrowed a brow but handed a cap over.  He watched as Newt reached into his thigh holster and revealed a small, makeshift slingshot. 

            “When I say run, you run.”

            Thomas barely had time to ask before Newt was angling the slingshot and pulling the bottle cap back in the rubber band.  He released the band and the cap flew forward, and Thomas couldn’t help but jump up to watch it soar across the truck and smack into Jorge’s shoulder.

            “Go, go, go!” Newt yelled, pushing Thomas away from the truck and ducking as another cap sailed past them.

            Thomas ran.

            “Get to the house!” Newt instructed behind him. 

            Thomas ducked under another cap that soared his way from one of the others he didn’t recognize.  He threw one back at them and slid to a stop at the doorway before he ran right past it.

            “Inside! Inside!” Newt yelled.

            Thomas scurried inside and up the stairs.

            Harriet appeared over the stairs with Slingshot in hand.

            “Safety!” Newt yelled.

            She pulled the slingshot back.  “Hurry up!”

            Thomas reached the landing and followed the two of them into one of the rooms.  They looked out of the window and down to the ground below in time to see Frypan nail Brenda in the head with a cap.

            “Oh, he’ll pay for that,” Newt laughed.

            “What the hell is happening?” Thomas asked.

            Newt looked at him and shrugged. “Bottle caps.”

            “Newt got the walkies working,” Harriet explained.

            Thomas raised his brows at Newt, who only responded with a smile.

            “Come on, Shoulder,” Harriet said.  “You’re on the winning team, now.”  
  
            “Shoulder?” he asked as she pushed him out the door.  “Can I get a different nickname at least?”

            Harriet smirked at him.

            “I’ll take Shoulder,” he nodded, not wanting to know what else she might have come up with.

            “Let’s go,” Newt tugged him forward, leaving Harriet in the room to keep watch.  “We’ve just gotta get Fry and Isaac down and we win.”

            Thomas ran down the stairs until he felt Newt grab his arm and stop him.  “What? What is it?” Thomas asked, adrenaline bursting suddenly.

            Newt smiled down at him.  “You mentioned something about wanting a different nickname?”

            Thomas lowered a brow.

            “I’ll see what I can come up with, yeah?” Newt gave him a small tap on the back with a wink before he shuffled past Thomas and darted across the landing, slingshot at the ready. 

            Thomas blinked himself back to the moment.  _Right, the game._

            He ran out the doorway and into the mass array of a bottle cap war.

           

 ***  
  
            The flame of the campfire was an unnecessary heat, but the group sat a good distance away from it, and when the food was done cooking, it was immediately put out.  The group refueled after their activities beneath the setting sun and took turns rinsing off in the small bathing hut Isaac pointed out to them. 

            When Thomas had finished up he returned and tossed a towel to Newt.  “You’re up.”

            Newt stood and stretched, bumped a fist to Thomas’ arm and took off toward the hut.

            Thomas took the free seat and grabbed a bit of the dinner left out for him.  A moment later, Micah took the seat next to him.

            “What is it?” Thomas asked.

            “Touchy, touchy,” Micah sneered.

            “Yeah, well every time you talk to me you seem to have some comment to make.”

            “Maybe so,” he grinned.

            Thomas shook his head and sighed, finishing the last of his dinner.

            “Figured out some more info from townies you might be interested in,” he nodded to where Rebecca stood with arms crossed talking to someone Thomas didn’t recognize.

            “What’d you find out?”

            “Come along.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw, reminded himself it was for Minho, and followed Micah.

           

            “Twelve after?” Rebecca asked the boy.  “You’re sure.”

            “Absolutely. Came through the station today.”

            “How many?”

            “Just the two.”

            Rebecca nodded.

            “What’s going on?” Thomas asked.

            “Who’s this guy?” the boy nodded at him.

            “He’s with me,” Rebecca said, glaring at Thomas. She turned back to the kid.  “Ignore him.  Twelve after, two trains.  Southbound?”

            The boy nodded.

            “Great.” She reached into her back pocket and Thomas watched as she handed over both syringes from earlier.  “Should get you enough for breakfast.”

            “That’s it?” the boy asked.  “I gave you a time and direction! And number of trains!”

            “Yeah, you did. But I said I’d give you syringes for the time. I never said you had to answer the other questions.  Pay attention next time.” She shoved the syringes into his hand.  “It’s because of people like you that these other people think they can get away with selling shit for gold.”

            The boy walked off as Rebecca turned to Thomas and Micah. 

            “That was harsh,” Thomas said.

            “So is the sun.  We still have to live with it.”  She looked at Micah.  “Twelve twelve on the southbound tracks at Yotings.”

            Micah nodded.

            “What?” Thomas asked.

            Rebecca sighed through her nose.  “There are two trains crossing at an intersection down by Yotings.  It’s a place on the map. They should both arrive at twelve after noon.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “It takes us three hours to reach it.”

            “So, we leave at eight.” Thomas said.

            “We leave at nine,” Rebecca corrected.  “Every so often they have bergs following the trains.  If they catch a group of kids waiting around in the middle of the desert for an hour, they’ll be sure to land down on us.”

            “But what if-”

            “Thomas, no offense, but I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

            Thomas sighed through his nose but bit down on the comment.  “Fine,” he agreed. “We leave at nine.”

            “Great. I’m going to bed.” She pushed between Thomas and Micah and walked back to the house.

            “I suggest you keep your crew small,” Micah said, scratching at his neck.  “Less people, less chance of getting caught.”  He stepped forward toward Thomas.  “In,” he said, “and out.”

            Thomas pulled his head back, put off by how close Micah was getting to him.  His breath was sour and his eyes rimmed red.  Despite this, Thomas refused to move first, refused to back down. 

            Finally, Micah’s mouth snaked up into a grin before he backed up a step.  “See you at nine.”

            Thomas waited for Micah to halve the distance to the house before he turned and walked back to the group’s circle.

            “What was that about?” Harriet asked.

            Thomas looked back to where Micah disappeared through the doorway.  “We’re going to the trains tomorrow.”  He looked back at the group.  “Harriet, you’re coming.  The rest of you stay here.”

            “Excuse me?” Brenda asked.

            “I mean it,” Thomas said, holding up a hand. “If we’re gonna do this, I’m gonna trust their word on this.  They’ve done this before.  If they say it’s a small group, I’m keeping it small.”  He turned to Harriet. “Are you in?”  
  
            “What time do you need me ready?”

            “We leave at nine.”

            “I’ll be here half to.”

            Thomas nodded and looked around the group.  “Where’s Newt?”

            “Went to rinse off before,” Frypan said, craning his neck to look toward the rinse hut, “but he hasn’t come back.”

            Thomas ignored the stumbled heartbeat.  He wasn’t going to panic, not yet.  He walked off toward the shower hut and knocked on the wooden wall but there was no sound.  He called out for Newt, but no answer.

            He swallowed and willed his heart to slow down as he walked to the trucks.  He checked Joe’s truck first but found no sign of him, and went on the Vince’s and Jorge’s with no better luck. He leaned against the back of Jorge’s truck and took a breath.

            _Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay._

He took another breath and waited for his blood to slow in its rush through his veins.

            A minute later, he pushed off the truck and walked past the others to the house.  His legs moved faster the closer he got and by the time he was through the door he was jogging and taking the steps two at a time.

            He ran into the room that they took last night, holding onto the doorjamb for support. 

            Newt was sat against the same wall he’d fallen asleep against the night before, eyes fixed on some point in the sky just visible through the window. 

            Thomas allowed himself a breath of relief before he slowly walked forward.  He turned and slid down the wall to take a seat next to Newt in the small sliver of moonlight.  “Hey, what’re you doing up here?”

            Newt just shook his head.  “I was tired.”

            “So why aren’t you sleeping?”

            Newt paused before he answered.  “I don’t know.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Newt, what’s going on?”

            Newt’s eyes never moved from their spot, but Thomas could see something change in his demeanor.  He watched him for another minute before he turned to look out the window as well. 

            He didn’t know how long they sat in silence, but eventually Newt broke it. 

            “Do you think about colors?”

            Thomas shifted his gaze from the window, but his eyes didn’t quite reach Newt.  “Colors?”

            “Yeah.”

            Thomas tilted his head.  “What do you mean?”

            “What’s your favorite?”

            Thomas pulled his legs up closer to him.  “I don’t know.  Never really thought about it, I guess.”

            “Well now that you are, what do you think it is?”

            Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know.  I don’t really think about colors.  There’s a bit more going on than worrying about which ones are prettier than others,” he laughed, trying to get Newt to smile.

            But still, Newt watched something that Thomas couldn’t see and his head seemed to be somewhere that Thomas couldn’t reach.  Instead, Thomas reached where he could and laced his fingers through Newt’s.  He could practically feel the tension radiating from Newt.  Nerves, perhaps.  Something coursing through him.

            Suddenly Newt’s free hand reached over and grasped Thomas’ shirt and Newt pulled him into him. 

            This kiss was different.  There was a search to it, something reaching.  There was purpose behind it, coupled with their laced fingers tightening against each other.

            The floorboards were hard against Thomas’ back as he laid down against them, but his focus was elsewhere. His hand reached up to Newt’s waist where it hovered just inches above his own, and his fingers curled instinctively in the bunched material of Newt’s shirt, a barrier to keep them from pressing against his palm once again.

            He exhaled a short breath as Newt’s mouth trailed along his jawline and Thomas could feel the stretched material of Newt's shirt as he pulled him against himself. “Newt…”

            Thomas’ neck arched, the back of his head scraping against the floorboard as he felt a pinch against his pulse. “Newt…” he breathed again.  He uncurled his fingers from the shirt and angled his head back down to meet Newt’s eyes, hazed over and set on Thomas’ own.  They lied there another minute breathing until Newt’s gaze shifted and he began to push himself up. 

            Thomas swallowed and slowly lifted himself to sit up.  “Newt, I just… I don’t…”

            “No,” Newt said, voice heavy.  “No, it’s… you don’t…no need to explain.”

            “I just don’t think…”

            Newt shook his head.  “No, Tommy, I’m sorry. I don’t know-”

            “No, no, no, hey,” Thomas slid forward a bit closer and reached out to him. “Don’t apologize.  I just…” he furrowed his brow at the way Newt’s eyes shifted along the floor.  And then Thomas understood: he wasn’t embarrassed, he was scared.  “You’re upset.”

            Newt swallowed.  “You’re right, we shouldn’t.”

            Thomas felt a stutter in his chest at the implication. “It’s… it’s not… I…” he bit down on his tongue before he tried again.  “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

            Newt’s eyes shifted in his direction.

            Thomas swallowed.  His mouth was suddenly very dry as he spoke.  “It’s just… the timing on this is all wrong.”

            “I know,” Newt’s eyes looked up at him now.  “I know, Tommy.  I don’t… I’m sorry.”  
  
            “Hey,” Thomas reached out with a light grip on Newt’s wrist. “Stop apologizing for the way things are for us.”  He could hear his own heart pounding in his chest as Newt’s pulse beat wildly against his palm.

            Newt inhaled, stilted.  “Okay,” he exhaled.  “Okay.”

            Thomas nodded and let go of his wrist in favor of guiding Newt down to lie next to him.  He shifted himself closer, just enough to press his mouth to Newt’s slowly, lightly.  He turned to lie on his back and pulled Newt onto him, and as Newt bowed his head against Thomas’ chest, Thomas thought about colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. One day, Thomas will learn to use a seatbelt. Maybe. Probably not.
> 
> 2\. Heeeyyyyyy Micah and Rebecca. Remember them? Sneaky and shifty as always. But… handy when the situation calls for it.
> 
> 3\. Trains and tracks, trains and tracks. Getting closerrrrrrr :) Really can’t talk too much on this, of course.
> 
> 4\. Meet Tim, the Slopper, who makes an amazing soap mixture for laundry. Probably due to the flowers he gets from a certain Track Hoe. (Wow, I….have too many HCs…. *shoves them all in the back of the closet* Anyway, back to Newtmas…)
> 
> 5\. Meet Jerry. Everyone has a story.
> 
> 6\. Glade stories! Okay this is a Whole Thing for me. If you haven’t caught on by now, I clearly LOVE Glade stories. I also love all of the What-Ifs of stories. So being able to combine that and have Thomas wonder if he could have fallen in with the other boys in another life and been a real Glader, part of that community, was something I definitely wanted to touch on. Also, it gave me a chance to shed a little bit of light on Newt and Fry’s friendship <3
> 
> 7\. Dmitri locking himself in the Slammer. Ohhhh, Dmitri… (It should be noted that any and all names used have been pulled from the Glader Wall in the movie.)
> 
> 8\. Newtmas falling asleep curled together <3
> 
> 9\. Micah apparently hates Newt. So there’s that.
> 
> 10\. The map!!!! THE map… 
> 
> 11\. Meet Andrea “Drea”. Thanks to Manda for the name :)
> 
> 12\. Families in the Scorch. Life still goes on, despite Thomas’ story and their group’s mission and adventure. Life is still happening around them.
> 
> 13\. The Central Scorch Hub - I LOVE TRADE POSTS IN TOWNS. They allow for super shady activity which is basically perfect for the Scorch. I also love the idea of this being how people in the town get by. They get what they can and use it to barter with others. It also gives more of an incentive for people like Micah and Rebecca to be stealing supplies from WCKD.
> 
> 14\. Walkie Talkies! Newt got them working!!! Our little repair man <3 Yes, Harriet came up with the code names. She’s Hawk - up in the window watching. Newt is doe eyes because…well…..he is. Jorge? Cider Maestro (thanks Manda!) I don’t know. He made Cider that time…he had a whole thing with music in TST. So there. They’re young. They like to have fun.
> 
> 15\. Yotings is another town name I made up similar to Arka Cliffs. Rusted and faded maps and signs and all that.
> 
> 16\. And then, just a quick note just to clarify? I hope it was made clear, I really hope I wrote this correctly. I went over it a bunch with a friend to make sure I got it across, but just in case? This final scene is 110% consensual. The two of them are in love, they both want this, they want this very much. BUT, it’s not the time - which they both understand. Which is why Thomas stops him, and Newt is immediately right there with him and understanding. I really hope this was shown clearly in the writing.
> 
> Thank you all so much for following along! This month is a pretty busy one for me so updates are a bit sporadic. A few may be skipped unfortunately, so I just want to give you all the heads up now in case they don’t go up in time. Specifically toward the end of the month. When July comes, the updates should be back to normal (and almost done)!!
> 
> Love you all so much and the support you’ve given me and this story. <3 Thank you, thank you, thank you.


	29. On Racing and Reaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: The First Heist

 

 

            “12:03,” Rebecca said, eyeing her pocket watch.  “Nine minutes to spare.” She tucked it back into the pocket of her vest and checked the magazine of her gun once more.

            Thomas looked out the window past Newt and then out of the other window past Harriet.  “Where are the tracks?” He knew they had to be close.  Drea had driven her van directly over a set of tracks only a few minutes ago.  Now they were parked at the bottom of a hill with no tracks to be seen, no trains to be heard.

            “Don’t worry about it.” Micah spoke up and Thomas tried not to cringe at the lilted voice directly behind him.  “Just follow me, Thomas.”

            The way Micah sneered his name was enough to make Thomas shift forward in his seat and lean his elbows on his knees as he feigned interest in something outside of the front windshield. He felt a hand on the small of his back and immediately spun round only to find that Micah had taken his seat in the back again.

            Newt pulled his arm back from Thomas to unbuckle his seatbelt.  “Should we get moving?” he asked the girls in front.

            “Take the packs and your weapon,” Rebecca answered.

            Newt slid out of the door and Thomas followed him.  They met Harriet and Rebecca at the back to grab the empty packs they brought with them.  Thomas fished the throwing dagger from his waistband as Newt checked his holster next to him.

            “Nice,” Micah said, stepping up to Thomas. He pointed to the dagger.  “Gotta get up close and personal with your enemies with that.”  His eyes shot up to Thomas’.

            Thomas dropped his gaze to the lead pipe in Micah’s hand.  “Planning on fixing the plumbing?”

            Micah lifted the pipe and ran a finger along the metal.  “Blunted instruments are better.  Let’s you administer pain instead of just cutting right to the chase.  Let the enemy suffer, ya know?” His gaze shifted to Newt and Thomas had to fight the urge to angle his dagger at him.

            “Stop being weird,” Rebecca said as she bumped her shoulder into Micah when she walked past.  “It’s almost time and I need you to focus.”

            Micah shrugged.  “You’re asking me to do something I can’t help.” He pulled the neckline of his shirt out to reveal the dark veins spidering beneath his skin.

            “Yeah, I get it,” Rebecca rolled her eyes.  “Quit using it as an excuse for being an asshole.”

            The ground began to rumble below them, cutting off any questions Thomas had.  Rebecca nodded toward the hill and the five of them darted up, crouching just below the crest.  Thomas peered over the hill and saw the tracks in the distance.  “Why’d we park down there?”

            “Need to keep the truck hidden,” Rebecca answered.  “If the guards see a truck waiting out here in the desert they’re gonna know people are around and they’ll have an eye on us.  We do this part on foot.”

            Thomas looked back over his shoulder to where Drea jogged up from the parked van. 

            “You can run fast, right?” Micah grinned at him from the other side of Rebecca.

            “Can you?” Newt asked from the other side of Thomas.

            Thomas brought his gaze forward again as he heard screeching metal.  The train was in view now, racing down the further set of tracks.  “It doesn’t look like that train is stopping,” Thomas said.  “Why isn’t that train stopping?”

            Rebecca shook her head.  “Because that’s not the train we’re robbing.”

            Thomas exchanged a glance with Newt and Harriet.

            “We go two at a time,” Rebecca continued.  “Anything bigger, the guards will see us.  You see that big rock there?  Me and Micah will lead and duck behind it. The minute you see us even flinch to stand, you start running to the rock.  Only two of you.  One of you will have to go alone.”

            “I’ll go,” Thomas said immediately.

            “What?” Newt and Harriet asked.

            “I run faster than both of you,” Thomas said.  “I can move by myself just fine.”

            “Great,” Rebecca said.  “That’s settled. Now shut up.”

            Thomas looked forward as the second train came into view suddenly, racing toward the meeting point of the two tracks.  The screeching grew louder as the train slowed.

            “That’s ours,” Rebecca said.

            The train halted to a stop as the other flew past it on the joining track.  Two guards stepped out of the front train car and started making their way down the rest of them.  They stopped at each container as they went, opened the door and looked around.  They closed it before they moved on to the next train.

            “You follow us and stick close behind, okay? You stay quiet and you move fast.”

            Thomas nodded and his eyes fell to the dagger Drea lifted from a small holster at her hip.

            “Yeah,” Micah grinned.  “Follow the leaders.”

            “I take it you’re staying back here with us then?” Newt smarted.

            Thomas would have laughed if it weren’t for the smirk that crawled across Micah’s face. 

            “As much as I’d _love_ to hang back with Thomas, _someone_ has to show him how it’s done.”

            They were interrupted by Drea throwing her dagger out toward the train and Thomas snapped his head forward to watch the dagger nestle itself just above the door hinge of a car as the guards pushed the door to close.  The guards moved on to the next car.

            “All you,” Drea said before she slid back down the hill to the van.

            “Let’s go!” Rebecca whispered.

            “See ya,” Micah winked at them before sprinting off with her.

            Thomas watched as Rebecca and Micah darted off across the sand and slid down below the large rock.

            “Man, I hate that guy,” Harriet sighed.

            “You and me both,” Newt agreed.

            “Just ignore him,” Thomas said.  “And get ready to run.  You two are up next.”

            A quick glance back at them was the only warning Rebecca gave before she and Micah were up and sprinting toward the train car ahead of them.  Harriet and Newt took off to the rock and Thomas adjusted his grip on the dagger.  He watched Micah yank the door of the train car open when they reached it.  Rebecca shot an arm out to grab the dagger as it fell from where it’d been nestled, keeping the door from locking on them.

            The two of them hopped into the truck and, again, it was a simple look over Rebecca’s shoulder before Newt and Harriet were dashing across the sand to the train car.  Thomas bolted. 

            He slid against the sand, crouching behind the rock as Newt gave Harriet a boost into the train car.  She and Rebecca helped pull Newt up and then Rebecca held out a hand to stop Thomas from running yet.

            He glanced to the side to watch as the guards continued their car checks.  His heart pounded in his chest as he considered the last time he’d been this close to WCKD guards.  His fingers drummed along the hilt of the dagger, but he kept his grip tight so it wouldn’t slip in the slickness that coated it.

            A sharp whistle sounded and he looked forward to see Rebecca, Newt and Harriet beckoning him forward urgently.  He pushed off and ran.  He leapt into the train car and slid across the floor on his side.

            “Hell, Tommy,” Newt whispered, running a hand through his hair.

            “Shut up,” Rebecca hissed.  “Gather your supplies. They’d have heard that whistle by now.” 

            Thomas caught the look shot between Rebecca and Harriet before he turned to check the contents of the car. There were crates of radios and batteries, boxes piled on top of each other, another stack of batteries, and multiple sealed boxes.

            Micah used Drea’s dagger to slice through a thick piece of tape and opened one of the boxes.  Thomas looked over his shoulder and saw packets of something that he couldn’t read the small writing on, but Micah seemed to deem them important.  Thomas grabbed a handful and stuffed them in his bag.

            He turned and watched Rebecca sort through another crate, tossing some batteries aside but then shoving others into her bag.  He looked at the crate of radios in front of him.  He had no idea what he was meant to be looking for, what was and wasn’t important to take.  He turned to watch Newt shoving items in his bag and Harriet doing the same in her corner.

            He pulled out a radio with WCKD’s stamp on the side of it.  The plastic casing was caved in, but when Thomas flipped the switch on, a light blinked.  Did they need more radios? Surely, he couldn’t take all of them.  Should he just look for ones that were fixed properly?  He put the radio aside and dove in for another. This one seemed to be missing the entire casing around the coiled antenna, but when he switched it on – that one worked too.  He looked at both radios.  Was one of these better than the other? Were they both useful?  Were they both useless?

            “One minute,” Rebecca hissed as she peered around the opening of the car.

            Thomas shoved both radios into his bag and continued to pull more out of the box.  He supposed Rebecca could go through later and tell him if they were worth anything.  If not, Newt might appreciate them.

            “Let’s go!”

            Thomas turned to Rebecca. 

            “You two,” she pointed at Harriet and Newt who already seemed to have their bags closed and on their backs.

            Thomas scrambled to shut his and by the time he’d pulled it on, Newt and Harriet were already sprinting across the gap and making straight for the hill.  There would be no stopping on the way back, Rebecca had explained.

            “If they see us now, they see us,” she shrugged.  “Might as well just make the run for it.”  She peered around the edge once more.  “They’re almost at the last cart, you two go.”

            Thomas sprang into action behind Micah and the two of them leapt from the train car and landed running.  His legs burned as he pushed and he allowed a small victory smile as he passed Micah.  The crest of the hill came into view and he turned back once to see Rebecca sprinting past the rock behind them.  He braced his muscles and let himself slide on his knees the rest of the way over the ledge, straightening as he slid down the sanded hill. 

            Below, Harriet leapt into the van and Newt stood with the door opened, beckoning Thomas forward. 

            His feet hit the bottom of the hill and he darted forward, springing into the backseat of the van next to Harriet.  Micah followed and dove over the seat into the back before Newt hopped in after him.  When Newt pulled the door shut, Rebecca leapt into the front and the van was moving before she even got the door closed.

            Thomas craned his neck but couldn’t see the train above the hill anymore. 

            “Just about made it,” Rebecca exhaled, adjusting herself in the seat.  “One more minute and they’d have reached the last car and turned.  I just saw them closing that last door when I slid down the hill.”

            “You guys _did_ cut it close,” Drea sighed as she pulled the wheel left.  “I told you: six minutes and twelve seconds.”

            “Well, apologies,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I didn’t count on having three new people to look out for.”

            “We planned this two days a-”

            “Drop it, please,” Rebecca sighed, head falling back onto the seat.

            Silence fell across the van as they took off across the Scorch.  Thomas watched the tracks come into view in the distance.  Something clicked in Thomas’ head.  “Isn’t that the track the train will be taking?”

            “Why do you think you were on a time limit?”

            “Aside from risking getting caught, of course,” Drea added.

            “We’re going to race the train across the tracks?” Thomas asked.

            “No,” Drea said as they hit a small bump and Thomas had to grab the front seats to steady himself.  “We have to get past them before the guards get back onto the train and it starts moving.  If they reach this section of the track and see a van speeding across it, they’re going to be suspicious and we’ll have a berg on our tails.”

            “What?” Thomas asked as Newt and Harriet both pulled him back against the seat.  “Has that happened before?”

            “More than I’d like to admit,” Rebecca sighed. 

            “So, they know people have been stealing from them?” Thomas asked, vaguely pushing Harriet and Newt’s hands away from seat-belting him in.

            “I’m sure they do.  We’re not the only ones who’ve done it either.  I’ve seen other groups return with supplies from WCKD.  I don’t know where else they’d be getting it other than the trains, so if half the loot from the trains is going missing every time they cut through this area, they’ve gotta know something is going on.”

            “Which is why it’s important we get across the tracks before the train starts moving.”

            “Too late,” Micah said from the back of the van.  “Might wanna floor it, Drea.”

            “What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

            Thomas leaned over Newt to look out of the window.  They made it out of the other side of the trench they’d been using for cover and now they were on level ground with the train.  It was still a distance away, but Thomas couldn’t help the feeling that crept over him.  Nor could he help the knowledge that if he could see the train, WCKD could see the van.

            “Hold on tight,” Drea said.

            Thomas was pushed back into the seat by Newt and this time he pulled the seatbelt over himself.  They closed the distance to the tracks and Thomas gripped his pack and the back of his seat.  A second later, they barreled over the tracks and the seatbelt cut into Thomas’ waist as the van bucked up. 

            Drea gave the van a minute to steady itself before she slammed on the gas pedal again and they continued taking off away from the tracks and away from the train.  Away from WCKD.

 

           

            “We could probably use these casings,” Jorge said shaking something Harriet grabbed. He shook it again closer to his ear.  “The batteries I would toss away though.  It looks like the heat got the better of them in that train car.”

            Thomas leaned over his shoulder and looked at the pile of batteries.  Jorge picked one up and Thomas watched as something leaked from it.

            “Not all of them will be like that,” Rebecca offered over a bite of her lunch.  “The ones on the bottom should be fine if you grabbed them.”

            “I grabbed them,” Harriet shot back.

            Thomas turned to look over his shoulder at her.

            She raised a brow and shrugged.

            Thomas simply shook his head and bit down on his smile as he turned back to Jorge.  “Should we go through them all?”

            “Bern and I can take care of it,” Josh said as he reached forward and pulled the box toward himself.  “Anything to get us out of this heat.”  He hoisted the box up and nudged Bernard with his foot, which earned him a tired grunt back in response.  “Let’s go. Up.”

            There was another grunt before Bernard finally pushed himself up and dragged behind Josh into the house.

            “Glad to see it’s not just me that can’t handle the heat,” Frypan laughed.

            “You get used to it,” Rebecca shrugged.

            “How long do I have to suffer before I do? It’s been five months.”

            “Four and a half,” Newt mumbled.

            Thomas and Fry turned to look over at where he sat on a rock.  An elbow rested on his bent knees, fingers pressed into the corners of his closed eyes.  Thomas and Fry exchanged another glance before Thomas walked over to him, leaving Jorge to continue sorting through the supplies. 

            He moved the half-eaten sandwich aside and took a seat next to Newt.  “Hey,” he nudged him with his shoulder, ignoring the small throb.  His shoulder had mostly healed.  At this point, it felt like a really annoying bruise that he kept forgetting about.

            Newt’s hand dropped and he opened his eyes to look at Thomas’ knee. “What’s up, Tommy?”

            The exhaustion was evident in Newt’s voice and it scratched at Thomas. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

            “Yeah.”

            Thomas waited.

            “A little,” Newt finished.

            Thomas furrowed his brow.

            “Hey Comet,” Micah’s voice rang out behind them.  Thomas turned to look over his shoulder as Newt continued watching Jorge sort through a box of packets.  “Get it? Comet?” Micah continued walking toward them, eyes on Thomas.  “Cuz you’re fast?”

            “What is it, Micah?”

            Micah snorted. “All business. Right. I have the maps ready when you are.”

            “We’re eating lunch. We’ll go over them after.”

            Micah made a show of looking at the watch on his wrist.  “Burnin’ daylight, Bossman.”

            “Barely,” Thomas reluctantly nodded toward the table set up in the shade.  “There’s food over there. Help yourself.”  
  
            “Don’t eat,” Micah grinned at him and it sent a shiver across Thomas’ skin.

            “More for us then,” Newt interrupted.  He turned around to squint up at Micah.  “Bye now.”

            Thomas bit down on the laugh that threatened to escape as he watched Newt’s mouth curl into a mocking smile.

            Micah rolled his eyes.  “Just come find me when you’re ready, Thomas.”

            Thomas didn’t bother with a reply.  He turned back to continue watching Jorge sort through the supplies and tried to focus on what their next move was.

 

***  
  
            “There’s not much we can really do right now,” Harriet sighed, glancing between Thomas and Newt.  “We didn’t really find out useful information, did we?”  
  
            Thomas folded his arms across his chest and drummed his fingers, vaguely noting a small bruise on his bicep.  His eyes scanned the shadowed room as if it would hold an answer behind its corroded wooden slats and twisted rusted nails.  His gaze fell on Rebecca leaning in the doorway and he ignored the instinctive way his body flinched.  “Shit,” he breathed.  “You’re so quiet.”

            Rebecca shrugged. “It’s a good skill to have.”  She pushed off the doorway and walked into the room toward the three of them.  “There’s another train in three days.  I assume you’ll want in?”

            “I thought we were leaving,” Harriet said, eyeing Thomas.

            Thomas chewed his lip before he turned to Harriet. “You said it yourself: we didn’t find any information.  We need to know where these trains are coming from if we’re gonna find the others.”

            Harriet sighed through her nose.

            “What do you think?” Thomas turned to Newt.

            “Hm?” Newt lifted his gaze up to meet Thomas’.

            “What do you think?” he repeated.  “Do we stay here again or move?”

            Newt’s eyes flicked from Thomas to Harriet and then back to Thomas.  There was confusion written on Newt’s face and Thomas couldn’t help the feeling that nudged at him; the feeling that told him this had to do with the events of the previous night and what happened between them. 

            “I want to do whatever gets us to Minho,” Newt finally decided on.

            Harriet sighed.  “I’m sleeping in the truck again.”  
  
            Thomas barely glanced at her as she left the room.  Instead, he kept his eyes on Newt.    

            “Thomas?” Rebecca asked.  “Did you want to join me and Micah?  Maps?”

            Thomas continued to watch Newt’s eyes as they skittered around the room.  “No,” he said softly, shaking his head.  He finally pulled his eyes from Newt and looked at Rebecca. “No. You go.  Give me a minute.”

            Rebecca raised a brow, but whatever question was on her mind went unasked as she shrugged and left the room.

            Thomas turned back to Newt before Rebecca was even gone.  “Hey,” he said, voice still low.  He tentatively reached a hand out to tap Newt’s.  “Everything okay?”

            Newt’s brow flicked low briefly before he tilted his head.  “Everything’s fine.”  
  
            “You’re distracted.”

            “I’m tired,” Newt turned away.

            Thomas watched as Newt leaned on the far wall and slid down to sit in his usual place facing the window.  Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets.  Then slid them back out.  His fingers drummed along the threading of the brown pants and he tried to focus on the loose thread his forefinger caught on.  There was no use – his focus remained on Newt: eyes closed and head leaned back on the wall, elbows resting on bent knees, and shadows. There were always shadows.

            Something nagged at Thomas.  He swallowed.  “Is this about last night?”  
  
            Newt’s eyes sprang open, gaze on the ceiling.  It shifted slightly, but never quite landed on Thomas.  They hadn’t spoken about the night before.  They hadn’t really had the time and, if Thomas was being honest with himself, maybe he was avoiding it a bit.  But at the end of the day, he knew there was no reason to.

            In a quick movement that snapped Thomas’ focus back, Newt stood and began to walk toward the door.

            Thomas moved faster.  His hand wrapped around Newt’s arm and pulled him back.  “Newt, stop.  Can we talk about this?”

            Newt paused, but he had yet to turn and look at Thomas.  Instead, his eyes seemed to lock on the floor.  “I’m sorry,” he swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking right. We can forget it happened.”  
  
            “You don’t have to apologize for that,” Thomas shook his head.  He tugged lightly on Newt’s arm to turn him around. He watched Newt’s eyes shift along the floor, the walls, anywhere but Thomas.  “Hey,” he tried, softer. He gave a small squeeze to Newt’s arm.  Finally, Newt’s eyes found his.  “I meant it, you know,” he trailed his hand down Newt’s arm, pausing at his wrist.  “I meant it when I said I want this.”

            Newt’s pulse raced beneath Thomas’ fingers.

            “Will you say something?” Thomas asked quietly.

            Newt’s throat tightened and Thomas could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke. “I think you’re right.  It’s not the right time for this,” Newt twisted his wrist from Thomas’ grasp.  “For any of this.”  
  
            Something dropped low in Thomas’ gut. “Hold on,” he shook his head. “There’s a lot going on right now.  Tensions are high, I get that,” he nodded.  “But we’re still allowed this.”

            “Until it gets in the way.”

            “What?” Thomas shook his head again.  “It’s not gonna get in the way.”

            A muscle flickered in Newt’s jaw.  “I’m going to get more food.  You should check out those maps.”  Newt turned and made toward the door again.

            Thomas felt his own pulse quicken with each step Newt took.  The floor creaked, his veins buzzed.  “Wait.”  He jogged in front of Newt again and stepped in front of him to keep him from leaving.  “Slow down.”         

            Newt’s eyes flicked between his own.

            “What’s going on with you lately?” Thomas finally exhaled.  “You’re hardly sleeping, you’re not eating.  It’s like you’re barely here.”

            Newt blinked his gaze away.

            Thomas swallowed.  “You’re reminding me an awful lot of what I went through a few weeks ago.”  It was odd to bring up a memory Thomas had worked so hard to forget, but it was necessary.  And it caught Newt’s attention.

            “I’m just restless,” Newt answered.  His shoulders dropped with defeat.  “It’s been nearly five months.  Do we even know where Minho is? What they’re doing to him? If he’s even ali-” his words cut off, caught in his throat. He swallowed and continued.  “We’ve already lost people.  Too many.  Out of everyone I’ve ever known in my stupid three and a half years of memories, there are only a handful of people left.  A handful of my best friends.  My brothers.”

            Thomas felt an ache push against his chest, but no words formed.  There were none he could say anyway.

            “I’ve been able to keep pushing it and pushing it further away but,” Newt ran a hand through his hair, “it just keeps fighting its way back and I can’t stop it.  Not when all I keep thinking about is how lost we are.”

            “We’re close,” Thomas said.  He knew the doubt was clear through his voice, but he continued anyway.  “We’re getting so close.  Trust me.”

            “To what?” Newt laughed.  “To WCKD? To being captured again? Drained for your blood? Closer to being tortured until they maybe decide they want to erase our memories again and start over? I can’t go through that again.” Newt shrugged, helpless.  “I won’t, Thomas.”  
  
            “You’re not going to.  I’m not gonna let them take you.”

            “And you?” Newt asked. “What am I supposed to do if they capture us and take you?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “They’re not going to take any of us.  You hear me?  And if they do, I’ll fight my way back to you with everything I have.  Just like Minho is right now.  You know he is.”

            Newt dropped his gaze.  “I guess I’m just tired of not having any answers.”

            Thomas took a tentative step closer to him.  “I’m right there with you, but if we want answer, we need to keep searching for them.  And I need to know you’re here to do that with me.   I can’t do this alone, Newt.”

            Newt shifted on his leg in the silence. Another muscle flickered in his jaw.

            Thomas tried again.  “Are you with me?”

            Newt stilled his movements and brought his gaze back to Thomas then.  He nodded, barely perceptible in the shadows of the room.  “Of course.”

            Thomas nodded.   “For Minho.”

            “For Minho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Thank you all for coming back for the update!!! I REALLY appreciate the patience these last few weeks so so much. Had a lot going on here and it's been busy busy busy, but things are finally starting to settle down again and I'm excited to get back to writing and updating.
> 
> This is a super short chapter to come back with and I hope you'll excuse that. Mostly just wanted to tackle two pretty important things here before we dive into the final third of the story.
> 
> 1\. The First Heist - train heist! I love heists. This was just to sort of briefly show how they sort of find out about the trains and how they're learning to get on and off quickly without being caught. Very brief, but don't worry...it won't be their only one...
> 
> 2\. Newt's uneasiness and doubts - there's a lot going on with Newt lately, as many of you have picked up on by now. I love his character for a number of reasons, and one of them is because he has a darkness inside of him that other characters don't necessarily have. So I'm trying to pull that part of him into this story (without making it overbearing) while ALSO balancing the events of the story and where they're leading to. All of that rolled into Newt's general outlook on life and the things going on around and to him is really cool to explore and stretch out in this story. Like I said, he's got a lot going on. If only this weren't from Thomas' POV. Tsk tsk...
> 
>  
> 
> As I said, we're rounding the final third of the story. We're four and a half months into the timeline and, as we all know, the gap was only six months. The story WILL progress a bit into The Death Cure's timeline, so you'll start to see events matching up. I won't say too much on that because, even though we know what goes on in TDC, there are still spoilers that lie hiding beneath and in between those scenes. 
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who is STILL following this fic after so long and also a huge thank you to all the new readers. I continue to find new readers talking about and recommending this fic throughout various social media platforms and it honestly f l o o r s me that you enjoy it so much. Looking forward to writing and sharing the rest of the story with all of you! <3 Thanks for all your feedback and comments and kudos and love!!!


	30. On Anxiety and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: You're Running Out of Time, Thomas

            He wasn’t sure whether it was the echoed bang from the hallway or the way the floor shook beneath him where he slept, but Thomas sprung up immediately, nearly sending Newt flying across the room. 

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas’ eyes shot to the doorway. There was another bang, a growl and a grunted plea before Thomas turned to Newt to see him fully awake now, eyes set on the door as well.  When Newt turned to face Thomas, Thomas slowly put a finger to his lips and nodded his head toward the door.  Newt gave a quick nod and then they were moving, creeping across the floor.  It didn’t matter how quiet they were; there was another bang then that was loud enough to wake up the entire house.  Thomas ran the rest of the way and slid into the hallway, Newt on his heels.

            “Micah! _Micah!”_

            Thomas felt his heart stutter at the sight.  Rupert was currently pinned to the floor by Micah who was snarling, bearing teeth and straining as Rupert’s arms held him back.  Thomas took a step, but Newt yanked him backward and wrapped an arm around him to keep him from moving.

            Micah reared back and lunged down again as one of Rupert’s arms buckled under the pressure. There was a gargled scream from Micah as Rupert lifted his other arm to hold him back by the throat.  Thomas watched as one of Micah’s hands swung down.  From behind Micah, Thomas couldn’t see what sort of contact it made, but he could hear the agonized cry from Rupert. There was another strained “ _Micah!”_ before Thomas looked up to see Rebecca running down the hallway, metal pipe in her hands like a bat.  In one swing, she made contact with the side of Micah’s face and sent him tumbling.  He sprawled out on the floor, broken skin beneath his eye disappearing behind the welling blood.

            Quiet descended on the house as Thomas looked from Micah to Rebecca and then to Rupert – complete with two ragged lines gashed into his cheek, mouth bright red, and one eye slowly swelling. Pounding footsteps came from both the stairs and the hallway behind Thomas. The rest of the house gathered around the scene, whispers and gasps with them.

            Rebecca stepped forward and held down a hand to Rupert.  He gave one last long exhale before he reached and pulled himself up.  He stumbled sideways into her, but she held him upright.  Something about it made Thomas think this wasn’t the first time they’d gone through this.  If it was, they certainly were not surprised by it.

            “You alright?” Rebecca asked.

            Rupert only looked down to where Micah still lay motionless on the floor.

            Thomas felt someone brush past him and he turned to see Isaac step forward and pull Rupert from Rebecca.  He mumbled something angrily under his breath before turning to the group. “Alright, show’s over. Everyone back to bed.”  He turned Rupert and walked him toward the room at the far end of the hall.

            “Is he gonna be alright?” Brenda asked from the top of the stairs.

            Isaac only glanced at her once before he disappeared into the room.

            “Alright, you heard him,” Vince said, placing a hand on Brenda’s shoulder.  “Back to bed, everyone.  A few more hours ‘til sunrise.”

            The group slowly started to disperse, but Thomas stayed.  Newt’s arm dropped from Thomas’ side and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

            Thomas’ gaze dropped to Micah and then lifted to Rebecca.  “Is he…?”

            “No,” Rebecca said as she cleared her throat. She tossed the metal pipe from one hand to the other.  She walked to Micah and crouched down.  She turned his face left and then right, examining.  When she stood, she pulled him up into a seated position by the back of his shirt.  “Get some sleep. Another train at sunset. I want everyone rested.”  She walked into the room that Isaac and Rupert disappeared into, metal pipe in one hand and dragging Micah behind her in the other.

            Thomas looked over his shoulder to Newt, who watched with tight eyes before he turned away. There was a light tap to Thomas’ hip and then Newt lead the way back into the room.  Thomas gave one more glance toward the far room.  He watched Micah’s legs disappear behind the door before it closed. 

            They were out of time and Thomas knew it.  There was to be another train this evening and it would need to be worth more than just a backpack full of supplies.

            It would need to lead him to Minho.  Once and for all.

 

***

 

            Thomas realized he must have fallen asleep again at some point.  He pushed himself up from the comforter and squinted across the sunlight streaming into the room.  Newt sat a few feet away by the door, leaning against the wall.  He turned to Thomas.  

            “Morning,” he laughed. “Was I that boring?”

            Thomas furrowed a brow as groggy memories of whispers in the dark came back to him.  He dropped his head as a laugh expelled itself from him.  “Sorry.”  He looked back up at Newt’s smile.

            “It’s quite alright.  I’d rather you sleep.”

            “Did you sleep?”

            Newt shrugged. “Barely.”

            Thomas caught the darkened circled beneath Newt’s eyes.  “Worried about Micah?”

            Newt blinked, his face a clear representation of his feelings about Micah. 

            Thomas snorted. 

            “Come on,” Newt said as he pushed himself up from the floor.  He walked over to Thomas and lowered a hand to help him up.  “Jorge is making breakfast and, if it’s not going to put you to sleep again, I’ll tell you the rest of that story.”

            Thomas laughed and grabbed Newt’s hand to pull himself up.  “Please,” he stretched. “I want to know every detail of Minho kicking Gally’s ass.”

            A small laugh issued from Newt as he slid an arm around Thomas’ waist to pull him closer to him. 

            Thomas felt something blossom in his chest as Newt leaned his forehead against the side of Thomas’ head, breath against his ear as he spoke low.  “Might wanna shower first.  You smell like sweat, and it’s gross.”

            Thomas shook his head, but couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he shoved Newt away from him.  “Thanks, that’s real sweet of you.”  
  
            Newt’s laugh washed over him, crinkles in the corners of his narrowed eyes.  Thomas focused on that image long after Newt had turned and lead the way out of the room.

 

 

            The heat dried the water from Thomas’ skin and hair almost immediately after he left the shower hut.  He took a seat next to Newt around the circle with the rest of the group as Frypan carefully passed him some of the breakfast.  “Trying not to wake her,” he explained, nodding to where Brenda was nearly asleep against the other side of him.

            Thomas smiled and nodded as he dug into his breakfast.  It was delicious.  He didn’t realize how hungry he’d been.  He barely even registered when Newt disappeared to shower and Vince replaced him.

            “How’s it going?”

            Thomas offered a noise in response as he chewed.  He swallowed and turned to Vince. “What is it?”  He could feel the nerves rolling off of Vince before he’d even looked at him, but now that he was, he could see it clear as day.  It was an odd image.  He rarely ever saw Vince nervous.

            “Look, Thomas,” he started.  “I don’t want to be the person to say it, but no one else is.  We can’t stay here much longer.”  He swallowed and then added lower, “not with Micah.”

            Thomas shifted his gaze to where Rebecca sat across the way, messing with the antenna of a radio.  He hadn’t seen Micah, Isaac or Rupert since the incident in the middle of the night. 

            Vince continued. “We need to find Minho and the others and get out of here.”

            “We said we’d take him.”

            Vince eyed Thomas.  “Thomas,” he shook his head. “We can’t do that.  Not with Josh and Brenda around.  He’s already this far gone, we can’t take him around all these kids in the Safe Haven.”

            Thomas chewed the last bite of his food slowly, working over this.  Part of him knew it was true.  If he was being honest, a big part of him would be happy to leave Micah behind and never have to deal with his attitude again.  But despite all of this, something else stirred inside of Thomas.  He knew he would never be able to leave him behind unless Micah made the decision himself. 

            Leaving Winston behind all those months ago was something that haunted Thomas still to this day, but it had been Winston’s choice.  It had been Winston’s request.  He’d watched the way Newt, Frypan and Minho had all stepped away.  How they’d let their friend make that choice for himself. 

            Micah might not have been a friend, might not have meant anything to Thomas, but he was still human.  Part of him was still in there and Thomas wouldn’t leave that part of him to suffer alone unless he wanted it.

            He turned to Vince now.  “You told me a while back that it wouldn’t be my decision to make Brenda and Josh go off to the Safe Haven with Fran and Manny.  That it would have to be their own choice.”  
  
            Vince sighed.  “Thomas, this is different.”

            “How?”

            “Keeping him around is putting everyone in danger.”  
  
            Thomas shook his head as he turned back to his food.  “It’s not on me to decide who stays and who goes.”

            Vince sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I know.  But-”

            “Vince,” Thomas said, turning fully to him now.  “When I left the Right Arm all those months ago, it was to save Minho.  That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Whoever trails along or stays behind is out of my control.”

            They sat in silence for a moment before Vince let out a laugh.  “You really can’t be swayed, can you?”

            Thomas smiled as he shook his head.  “You’re the one who told me to hold on to the fire.”  
  
            Vince looked at him then as he sat up and patted a hand to Thomas’ back.  “I did,” he nodded. “And you have. I don’t know him well, but Minho’ll be proud of you.”

            Thomas looked out across the base now to the others.  “Will he?”

            “Mary would be.”  
  
            Thomas swallowed.  “She’d be proud of you too.”

            Vince’s hand slid from Thomas’ back and he folded them in front of him.  “I sure hope so.”

 

***

           

            “Any luck over here?” Thomas nodded down to Rebecca as she continued to bend the antenna of a radio.

            “No, it’s a piece of shit,” she mumbled as she slammed a hand to the side of it.

            “Give it to me,” Newt said, reaching a hand down.

            Rebecca offered it up.  “Can’t make it any worse.”

            “He’s good with those,” Thomas said.  “He fixed the walkies.”

            There was a small brush of a hand across Thomas’ lower back as Newt moved to sit on one of the rocks next to them.  He immediately got to work, unscrewing something in the back and pulling it apart.

            Rebecca shook her head and turned back to Thomas.  “I’m keeping Micah behind tonight. Pick another person to bring.”  
            Thomas flicked his eyes over to the group.  “What do we need?”

            “What do you mean?”  
  
            “A driver, a shooter, a…” Thomas tilted his head. “Someone who could probably blow the train up?”  
  
            Newt snorted.

            “I think explosives are a bit excessive,” Rebecca said.  “A shooter might be best, but if all goes well they won’t have to show how good they are.”  
  
            Thomas exhaled.  “Bernard, it is.”

            “Listen, no more of those stupid name tag things. They’re useless. People want injectors and batteries. Radios. Ammunition.”

            “Well how was I supposed to know?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms.  “You never told me what to grab.”

            “I didn’t think I’d need to. Common sense.”

            Newt cleared his throat. “Speaking of common sense, is there a particular reason you bent this antenna to all Hell?”

            Thomas worked his jaw to keep from laughing as Rebecca scowled at him.

            “Just get it working.”

            “Where is Micah, anyway?” Thomas asked, pulling the conversation back.

            Rebecca sighed.  “In the room sleeping off his concussion.”

            “Pretty sure that’s not how you treat a concussion.”

            “You’re a doctor now?” Rebecca tilted her head.

            “Good point,” Newt said.  “Quiet up there, Tommy. Let him sleep it off.”  Newt didn’t look up at him, but he could hear the smirk curl up on Newt’s face.

            “Is this the first time he’s…” Thomas trailed off before he started again. “Is this the first time that’s happened?”

            “What?” Rebecca squinted up at him and leaned back on her arms. “You mean that he’s cranked out?”

            “That he attacked one of you.”

            Rebecca shrugged and looked off to the side.  “It’s happened before.”

            Thomas raised a brow.  “And you didn’t think to give us that heads up?”

            She looked back at him now. “You knew he was infected. I don’t owe you any explanation.”

            Newt cleared his throat somewhere off to the side.

            Thomas continued.  “You said we’d be safe here.”

            “And you are.  He’s not going to go after you unless he’s got a reason.”

            “He knows the difference?” Newt asked quietly.  “Between having a reason and not?”

            Rebecca shrugged.  “We like to think so.”

            “How often does it happen?” Thomas asked.

            “I don’t know,” Rebecca sighed.  “Listen, just focus on the heist. I don’t want anyone having any distracti-”

            “- _the docks.  There are trave……..ry four days at noon.  Be sure to check……..ide is sec……..Safe Haven! Check back i……………………..”_ The static continued.

            “Safe Haven?” Thomas asked, nodding at Newt.  “Is that what they just said?”

            Newt furrowed his brow at the radio.  “Sounds like it.”

            “Give me that,” Rebecca reached out an arm.  “Let me see if I can find a better station.”

            “This is the only one working,” Newt shook his head.  “Everything else is just silence.”

            Rebecca’s arm dropped.

            “They said something about docks,” Thomas said.  “It’s near the water, then.”

            Newt scratched at his jaw.  “I guess so.”  
  
            “That makes sense,” Rebecca added.  “If you’re escaping the Scorch, you’ve gotta escape this land. Go where there’s water.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “Well,” Rebecca said a bit louder as she stretched.  “I’m gonna grab a quick rinse and then we need to get ready to head out.”

            He waited until she was a good distance away before he took a seat on the ground next to Newt’s rock.  “I think that’s the first time we’d heard anything relevant about the Safe Haven.”

            Newt’s brows were furrowed as he stared at the radio in his hands.  Finally, he spoke.  “I wonder if the others ever made it.”

            Thomas felt his chest tighten.  “I’m sure they did, Newt.”

            Newt nodded slowly at the radio, eyes lost somewhere in his mind.

            Thomas reached a hand up to Newt’s arm and gave him a light shake until he shifted his eyes to look at Thomas. Thomas offered a small smile.  “We’ll be back with them soon.”

 

***

 

            Thomas landed on the train car, rolled into a kneeling position and immediately started filling his pack with the closest items.  Battery after battery.  The heists were becoming easier.  He didn’t stop to think of what that might mean.

            “Whoa,” Bernard exhaled. 

            “Let’s go, move it,” Harriet urged.

            “I’ve never actually been on a train,” Bernard continued. “This is huge.”

            “Fantastic,” Harriet deadpanned while she shuffled through a box. “Grab those injectors.”

            “Could you imagine getting crushed by this thing?”

            Newt snorted. “Bernard, focus.”

            “It must weigh thousands of pounds.”

            “Seventy,” Newt said as he reached over to pull something else from another box.

            “Seventy?”

            “Let’s go,” Rebecca snapped her fingers as she pulled her backpack on. “And shut up.”

            Thomas zipped his pack and swung it on his shoulder.

            “Seventy thousand,” Newt clarified.

            Thomas followed where he pointed to a large, faded stamp on the side of the train car that read LT WT: 70507.  “What’s the top number?” Thomas asked.

            “Probably what the train can hold,” Newt shrugged.  “Either way, it’d hurt being crushed by it.”

            A visible shiver ran through Bernard’s body before Rebecca yelled at them to move.

            “Hey!” A shout came from the other side of the train. “Who’s there?”

            “Go!” Rebecca yelled again.

            The group jumped from the train car, boots landing in the sand and dirt below.  The voice yelled out again from the other side of the train as they ran toward where Drea waited in the van. Thomas looked behind him to see a guard running at them from the front of the train. He turned to call for Rebecca but his yell was cut off by the sound of a gunshot.

            “Shit, move!” Harriet yelled.

            Thomas’ legs burned as he sprinted forward.  Another gun shot rang out behind him before a much louder sound took over.  Thomas didn’t need to look up to the sky to know that a berg had appeared.  He turned once to look over his shoulder and then immediately grounded his boots in the sand to stop himself as Rebecca sprinted past him.

            “Thomas!” Harriet yelled as she pulled Bernard’s shotgun from him.

            Thomas sprinted back to where Newt was trying to lift a now-bleeding Bernard from the ground as Harriet shot at the guard running toward them.  Thomas slid onto the ground and under Bernard’s arm.  He stood with Newt as the two of them lifted Bernard and began to drag him across the sand.

            “Rebecca!” Thomas called, to no avail.  There was no way she’d hear them.  A moment later, Thomas realized it didn’t matter.  The van spun on the spot and came barreling toward them.  They continued to run toward it until Thomas felt the weight of Bernard nearly double on his side and drop on Newt’s side.  He looked over to see Newt kneeling on the ground, eyes screwed shut as he worked to push himself back up.  “Newt, you alright?” Thomas yelled over another shot from Harriet’s gun.

            The van veered around, the doors in the back opening as Rebecca urged them on.  Thomas pulled Bernard fully from Newt and pushed him toward the van.  Rebecca pulled as Thomas pushed and, together, they got Bernard back into the van.  Thomas spun, relief washing over him as he saw Newt running toward him, limp significant.  “In!” Thomas yelled, backing up to let Newt jump into the van. “Harriet!”

            Harriet fired one more shot before jetting past Thomas into the van.  He jumped up and pulled one of the doors shut behind him as he heard a bullet ricochet off of it. 

            Rebecca yelled up to Drea to floor it and a split second later they were taking off across the sand. 

            Thomas reached forward and pulled the other door shut, catching a last glimpse of the berg following them. Through the dusted square window, Thomas watched another shot fire down from the berg, just behind them.  He turned back.  “Drea, you’re gonna need to move faster!”

            “Shut the fuck up!”

            “Thomas,” Newt pulled his arm.

            Thomas turned and looked down to where Harriet was pressing on a wound in Bernard’s side.  “We need something to wrap it.”

            “We have nothing with us,” Newt shook his head.

            Thomas looked around the van, but there was nothing except the six of them and their packs filled with batteries and injectors, bits of radios and wires. 

            “A shirt,” Harriet said.

            “What?”

            “One of your shirts, let’s go!”

            Thomas reached behind him and yanked his shirt over his head.  “Not exactly sanitary.”

            “Don’t care,” Harriet pulled it from him.  “It’s better than nothing.”

            Thomas flinched as the van shook suddenly.  “The hell was that?”  
  
            “Bernard can you hear me?”

            “Someone get that shotgun out!”

            “Here, use this wire to tie it in place.”

            “Give me that backpack.”

 

 

***

 

            By the time the berg had turned and headed back to the train, Bernard was sitting up and the group was only twenty minutes out from the camp. The van was filled only with the sound of breathing before Thomas finally spoke up.  “Why was there a berg this time?”

            “It looked like it was following the other train. I’m guessing one of the guards radioed it to circle back to us.” She turned in her seat then to look back at them.  “Next time, if I tell you to shut up and run, do it. You guys wanted to talk about getting crushed by trains? Well you were nearly shot to death instead.  Next time, I leave your asses to get captured and killed.”  She turned back in her seat as the quiet took over the van again.  Thomas tucked all of his questions away for later.

            The van finally slowed to a stop at the camp.  The others were sat around the trucks, but when the van doors swung open and Thomas and Newt were lowering Bernard from the truck, the group came running. 

            Josh was at Thomas’ side immediately, pulling Bernard away from them.  There was a blur of English and Spanish before Josh finally looked up at Thomas.  “What the hell happened over there?”

            “This idiot was more interested in the train than living,” Rebecca replied.

            Thomas was sure that if Josh hadn’t been busy holding Bernard, he’d have been at her throat almost as hard as Micah had gone at Rupert.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Everyone go sit. We’ll explain everything after we’ve eaten.”

           

 

            Thomas trudged up the crooked stairs of the building.  His legs were exhausted, his shoulder ached, and his mind spun.  He ran a hand through his wet hair from the shower as he took the last step up to the landing.  He walked toward the room he’d been staying in, but paused just short of the doorway.  He turned to look down the hall at the closed door where the four had disappeared earlier.  He wondered if Micah had woken up at all and, if so, how he was doing.  Thomas waited a single heartbeat before he moved toward the far door. 

            He stood in front of it as he debated whether or not to knock, but then turned at the sound of a zipper in the room to his left.  He peered into the doorway to see Rebecca shoving items in a pack in a hurry.  There were clothing items tossed about, broken radios discarded, a pair of beat up boots thrown in a corner and more.  “What are you doing?”

            Rebecca jumped at the sound and spun to look at him.  There was a beat of silence before she scowled.  “You’re too quiet.”

            Thomas smirked.  “Good skill to have.” He walked into the room and nodded at the pack behind her.  “Where are you going?”

            “Away from here,” she answered as she continued shoving bits of ammo into the bag.  “That berg knows where we are now. No way I’m sticking around to get caught.”  
  
            Thomas blinked.  “You’re leaving?”

            “Yes,” she nodded, shoving another shirt on top of the ammo. “To the docks.”

            “The Safe Haven,” Thomas clarified.  “You’re going now?”  
  
            “Yes.”

            “But we haven’t gotten Minho yet.”

            “Who?” She shook her head. “I don’t give a shit about your friends, Thomas. I was only helping you to get to the Safe Haven.”

            “Yeah,” Thomas said, pulling the bag away from her. “We had a deal. Find Minho first.”

            “Thomas,” she snapped, pulling the bag back.  “We’re not finding him, get it through your head.”

            “Yes, we are,” Thomas said, snatching the bag back again.  “We’re getting closer and if you’d just wait-”

            “For what?” She yelled back, looking up at him now.  “If he’s with WCKD, he’s dead. You’re wasting your time.” She snatched her bag back and this time Thomas let her take it. 

            He tightened his hands into fists before he loosened them again.  “Listen, I promised I would get you to the Safe Haven when I get Minho back.  Hold up your end of the deal.”

            Rebecca only laughed in response.  “Deal’s off, Thomas.  Micah is nearly gone.  I’m not sticking around to watch it happen.”

            Understanding rushed through Thomas.  “You’re leaving him here?”

            Rebecca slowed her movements and focused on the knife in her hands.  “I’m just leaving.”

            “What happened to everything you said this morning?”  
  
            She tossed the knife in the pack and zipped it up before she looked at Thomas.  “What does it matter to you?  We’re done.  I don’t need you anymore.”

            “You’re just going without him then?”  
  
            “Can’t bring a Crank to the Safe Haven, Thomas.  Even you knew that when you made this deal.” She swung the pack on her shoulder.  “Was nice working with you.  Good luck.”

            Thomas couldn’t find words.  He couldn’t understand how she could just up and leave.  He turned to call after her as she walked past him to leave, but his words caught in his throat as his eyes found Newt standing in the doorway.  Newt’s eyes lowered to the floor slowly before he pulled himself back into the hall and out of sight. 

            Thomas didn’t know how long he stood in the room, but when he left, his legs felt numb.  His entire body felt numb.  He walked down the hall toward his room, but then turned and walked down the stairs instead.

            The night air here was still warm here.  He hadn’t felt anything close to a breeze since the mountain passes.  It was only weeks ago, but he missed the mountains.  He missed the trees, the creeks.  He missed everything. 

            He climbed up into the bed of Jorge’s truck where Jorge and Frypan had been taking care of the Night Watch.

            “What’s going on, _hermano_?”

            Thomas settled into the bed of the truck and leaned against the gate.  He nodded over to where Frypan was leaning across from him, head hanging as he slept.  “Some partner you got there.”

            Jorge looked over at him and laughed.  “He said he didn’t get much sleep last night after the incident inside.”

            Thomas nodded. “He’s not the only one.”

            “You either?”  
  
            Thomas shrugged.  “A little bit.”

            “And tonight?”

            Thomas shrugged again. 

            “What’s on your mind?”

            “Do you think I’m wasting everyone’s time?”

            Jorge turned to him a bit more fully as he folded his hands in his lap.  “What’s this now?”

            “I just mean with this whole,” he gestured vaguely, “rescue mission.  Is it a waste of time?”

            “Why would you say that?”

            “It’s been months. Not weeks – months.  Have we even made progress?”

            Jorge tilted his head up.  “Well, I think it’s a matter of your definition of progress.”

            Thomas snorted.  “Come on, Jorge.”

            “I mean it,” Jorge looked back down at him.  “Have you not progressed in anything on this _rescue mission_?”

            Thomas didn’t answer.

            “What about that knife throwing you learned to do?”

            Thomas snorted.

            “Is that not progression? Has Harriet not opened up more? Has Josh not been more relaxed? Has Frypan’s driving not gotten better?”

            Thomas smiled and tilted his head at the last one. “Ehhh…”

            Jorge let a small laugh out.  “What is making you doubt this so suddenly?”

            “How much of that has really contributed to us getting closer to Minho?  We’re stuck in another desert town with no leads.”

            “What about those WCKD trains?”

            “We still don’t know where they’re coming from.”

            Jorge considered this.  “What about where they’re going to?”

            Thomas shrugged as he pulled at a thread.  “I don’t know.  I have no idea how to figure that out without just straight up asking a guard, but that’s impossible since they all want to capture us and torture us. Or gun us down from a berg.”

            Jorge hummed.  “I was thinking about this berg of yours.  The one that chased you.”

            “That makes one of us.”

            “You said it turned around about twenty minutes into the drive?”

            “Yep.  Went back to the trains.”

            “Why do you think that is?”

            Thomas dropped his hand from the thread and exhaled.  “I don’t know.  Probably didn’t think we were worth chasing?”

            “Could be,” Jorge nodded.  “Could also be that they had to get back to their trains after realizing you were all just petty thieves.”

            “Hey,” Thomas joked as he looked up at him now.

            “Forgive me,” Jorge laughed.  “But I’m serious, Thomas.  Think about it.”

            “Okay,” Thomas shrugged.  “I basically said the same thing – we weren’t worth chasing.”

            “No, no, no, no,” Jorge held up a finger.  “Not that.  The other part.”

            “That they’d rather follow the trains?”

            “That they _had to_ follow the trains,” Jorge corrected.  “You said a guard probably radioed them to go after you.  Where were they before that?”

            “I don’t know,” Thomas shook his head.  “I think Drea said it was over the other train.”

            “There was another train at the crossing?”

            “Yeah,” Thomas eyed him.  “Where are you going with this?”

            “Well, and this is just a theory, but what if the berg was following that other train?”

            Thomas blinked at him.

            Jorge turned more fully to Thomas.  “What if, and this is just a theory, they sent the berg after you because they thought they’d be able to capture you or whatever they wanted to do, but then when you were getting too far from the trains, they had to call the berg back?”

            “You’re saying the berg was protecting the trains.”

            “The train,” Jorge corrected. “The train that was moving – not the one you robbed.”

            Thomas considered this, replayed Jorge’s words in his head.  “So, whatever was on the moving train was more valuable.”

            “Probably. Where there’s stronger protection, there’s stronger value.  And you can bet that’s the train that’s going somewhere where WCKD keeps other valuables.”  Jorge eyed him.

            “Immunes,” Thomas answered.  “That train is heading to the facility where Minho is.”  
  
            Jorge shrugged. “It’s only a theory.”

            “It’s more than what we had,” Thomas said, his heart rate rising.  “That must be why the other train stopped.  Of course it had to let that train pass.  I bet the trains that have bergs behind them don’t stop at all.  They just move on a fast track to a facility.”

            “It’s what I’d do if I had something to protect.”

            Thomas’ head swam.  “I need… I need a map. And a pen.” He looked around the bed of the truck as if he’d find a map lying about.

            “I think that Rebecca girl took her map with her.”

            “What?” Thomas’ head snapped up to Jorge. “You saw her leave?”

            Jorge pointed off in the distance.  “Walked that way about three hours ago.”

            Thomas’ shoulders dropped.  There was no way he’d find her now.

            “The glove compartment,” Frypan suddenly murmured as he shifted around, eyes still closed.

            Thomas and Jorge both snapped their heads toward him. Thomas furrowed his brow.  “What?”

            “The map,” Frypan clarified.  “It’s in the glove compartment.  Brenda’s been betting since day one they’d all take off in the middle of the night on us.”

            Jorge laughed.  “That’s my girl.”

            “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night,” Thomas laughed.  “Thanks, Fry.” Thomas stood and grabbed onto the ledge of the gate to hop out.

            “And don’t think I’m driving you anywhere.”

            Thomas paused his movements and looked back at Frypan.  “What?”

            Frypan opened an eye.  “I heard your little _ehhh_ about my driving.  You can go ahead and get someone else to drive then,” he closed his eye again and scooted down against the truck.  “I’ll stay right here.”

            Thomas laughed.  “I’d want no one else.”

            “Mhm, sure. Go away, you’re making too much noise.  It was much better when it was just Jorge’s bad singing.”

            “Hey!” Jorge protested.

            Thomas let a small smile out as the two bickered.  He hopped over the ledge of the truck and walked around the front.  He opened the glove compartment and let loose a breath when he saw the map folded and tucked into the side of the box.  “Thank you, Brenda,” he mumbled.

            He pocketed the map and made a promise to himself that he’d be the only one allowed to handle it.  There was no way they were losing another one.  Not when they were finally this close to an answer.  Newt, though.  Newt would be able to go over it with him.  He’d be happy to know what Jorge’d come up with.

            He jogged back to the house and up the stairs, rounded the railing and jogged into the room.  He paused when he looked down at the rumpled, empty comforter.  He looked around the room, but there was no one there.  His eyes snagged on Newt’s pack.  He wouldn’t have gone far then.

            Thomas’ heart picked up. 

            He wouldn’t have willingly gone far.

            He backed out of the room, hand running along the wall as he backed toward the staircase again.  He tried to replay the last time he’d seen Newt.  It was when Rebecca was leaving.  In the doorway of her room.  Thomas spun and ran toward her room.  He stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the empty room.  He turned to look at the closed door where the others had disappeared.

            He lifted a fist, took a breath, and-

            “Tommy?”

            Thomas spun, nearly twisting an ankle.  “Newt,” he breathed.

            Newt furrowed his brow and eyed the door behind Thomas.

            “Where the hell were you?” Thomas exhaled as he walked over.

            “I was just-”

            Thomas cut his words off as he pulled him into him and wrapped his arms around him.

            “Tommy?”  
  
            “Sorry,” Thomas shook his head and pulled back. “I thought, for some reason…” Thomas shook his head.  He didn’t know what he thought.  That he’d left? That he’d been taken?

            “I know _you’re_ not about to say anything about me going off on my own,” Newt laughed.

            Thomas let a small laugh out, willing his heart rate to slow back to normal.

            “You alright, Tommy?” Newt lowered his head to catch Thomas’ gaze.

            “Better than that,” Thomas nodded.  He looked up at Newt.  “I think I know where to find Minho.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek. So much for sticking to a schedule. Oh well. Here I am! 
> 
> 1\. Micah's Attack - Bound to happen sooner or later. Poor Rupert. But he seems to be okay.
> 
> 2\. Thomas' Decision - Did we really think Thomas would be okay with sneaking off and leaving someone behind? Breaking a promise? Of course Thomas will stay true to his word. <3 Precious leader.
> 
> 3\. Docks! We have the first hint of the docks leading to the Safe Haven! Thanks to Newt's radio skills, of course.
> 
> 4\. Heist - Eek. Looks like this heist didn't go so well. Poor Bernard, he was just so fascinated. 
> 
> 5\. Rebecca Leaving - Dammit, Rebecca. We were rooting for you! Ugh.
> 
> 6\. Jorge's Talk - Love Jorge. Always. <3 Always trying to help out Thomas. He's quiet, but definitely helpful.
> 
> 7\. Thomas is onto something here... ;)
> 
>  
> 
> That's really all the notes I want to leave as far as this chapter goes. 
> 
> I want to apologize too for my delay in posting. I was so sure I'd be back on schedule last time lol. I'm not even gonna bother saying anything now. Instead, I will say that I really hope I can get the next chapter up soon for you all! You've been so wonderful and patient with me these past few weeks! I appreciate every single one of you still sticking around (and everyone new who has stumbled across this fic and read it!) and hope you continue to enjoy the story. Love you all so much. <3
> 
> Not too much longer now...


	31. On Numbers and Near Misses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Newt Should Have Just Sat on Thomas' Lap

            “Thomas,” Vince sighed, “you realize that this is all just speculation, right?”

            Thomas looked down at the map splayed out on the hood of the truck, then to the paper next to it that he had drawn several crisscrossing lines on where he theorized the trains could be leading.  “Okay, but it’s at least worth a shot.”

            When he didn’t get an answer, he looked up to Vince.  There was unease on his face as he looked across Thomas to the others.  Thomas turned to see most of their faces mirroring Vince’s.  “What?”

            “Thomas,” Harriet started as she stepped forward to look at the map.  “Vince is right, you’re just guessing which route that train could have taken.  Look at this right here.” She pointed down to a spot where three lines intersected.  “These two tracks go South, this one goes West.  How do we know which one the train would have taken?”

            Thomas looked back down at the map.  “Okay, we don’t know, but we have three options.  It’s better than none.”  
  
            Harriet sighed and stepped back.  “I don’t know, Thomas.”  
  
            Thomas turned and faced the rest of them.  “What is happening here?”

            A ripple went through the group until Vince spoke up.  “Maybe we should take a minute to do some more research on this.”

            “What more research is there to do?” Thomas asked.  “We have a shot here.”

            “Yeah,” Vince nodded.  “We also had a shot when we went to the Scorch Facility and you nearly got yourself killed.  We had a shot when we went up the mountains to the rebel camp and,” he paused, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.  “We had a shot when we were doing several train heists to steal WCKD’s supplies and Bernard got injured.  What’s gonna happen this time?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “This is different.”

            “Is it?” Harriet asked.

            Thomas turned to her now.  “I can feel it.  These trains are the closest we’ve ever been to WCKD.  To finding out where their other facilities are.”

            Harriet crossed her arms and an exasperated sigh escaped.

            “Why are you so against this?”

            “We’re tired,” Josh said quietly. 

            “Tired?”

            Josh shrugged.  “We’re tired of being wrong.  We’re tired of risking our lives and sticking our necks out only to get nowhere.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “You all want to give up, then? Is that it?”  
  
            “No,” he said.  “I’m not saying we’re giving up.  I’m saying we want to do this smart.”

            “We want to make absolute sure this is the right course of action,” Vince added.

            “What other course do we have?” Thomas asked.

            “That’s what we want to think about.”

            Thomas ran a tongue along his teeth as he looked back down at the map.  “I’m telling you, I know this is the right choice.  It feels different this time.”  Even as he said it, Thomas felt the doubt creeping up his spine now.  Maybe they were right.  Maybe this was just another wrong choice he was making.  Maybe this was nothing and he was just getting too excited.

            “I have an idea,” Frypan offered.

            Thomas turned to him.

            Frypan shrugged.  “We know there are docks that lead to the Safe Haven.  That’s something we definitely know.  As a fact.  Why don’t we go there?”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Why would we go there? That’s all the way to the West.  The trains cross East of where we are now.”

            Frypan dropped his gaze.  “Yeah, but we should know where the Safe Haven is before we rescue Minho, shouldn’t we?”

            “He’s got a point,” Vince said.  “Say you’re right.  Say we follow one of these trains to a facility, we get Minho and the fifty odd other kids. Where are we gonna go from there? WCKD’s gonna be on our tails once we get the kids from them.  They’ll be chasing us all across the entire damn Scorch. We need an escape plan.”

            Thomas looked to Newt, but Newt seemed to be more interested in something else.  His eyes were glazed over, stare set on a spot on the ground.  Thomas dragged his eyes back to Vince.  “Okay, maybe you’re right.”  He looked to Frypan.  “That makes sense.”

            Frypan nodded, a bit of relief washing over his face.

            “But listen,” Thomas held up a hand.  “We keep the radios on.  The minute we hear anything about trains passing through or where they might be going, we turn around and head straight to them.”

            “Thomas,” Vince sighed.  “We can’t do that. We need to know where we’re taking them once we rescue them.  I know you wanna save them as soon as possible, I get that.  But we can’t do that unless we have a place to escape to.”

            “Once we find out where the Safe Haven is and how to get there, we charge WCKD,” Harriet nodded.  “Deal?”

            Thomas wanted to object again, but he knew they were right about everything they’d said.  They needed an escape route.  They couldn’t run aimlessly across the Scorch. Not with fifty other people.  “Deal.”

 

***

 

            The drive to the docks was longer than Thomas had anticipated.  He annoyingly started up his habit of bouncing his leg, but didn’t have the energy to bother stopping it this time.  It would only be a bit longer.  Once they had Minho in the Safe Haven everything would go back to normal.  Whatever that was.

            Come to think of it, Thomas didn’t think he’d ever dealt with normal.

            When they finally arrived at the docks on the coast, he stepped out of the truck.  He heard the gasps and shocked laughter around him.  He wondered if this was what normal was supposed to be.  Not dried up, scorched desert.  But rock, stone – all cracked and layered.  Rusted boats, trees and bushes.  And with all of that, water.  There was water everywhere.  From Thomas’ place next to the truck he could see the edge of the concrete where it dipped below the surface, and from there it went out for miles.  Thomas couldn’t see the edge.  He could see the Horizon ahead of them, but no shapes on it.  Just a flat line of sky melting into the sea. 

            The water was filled, however, with broken ships, rusted metal.  There were various bits sticking out of the sea all around them.  Even with this, it was one of the more beautiful sights Thomas had seen.

            There were crowds of people around as well, most bustling and moving about, but some just seemed to be resting beneath the sun.  There were broken down buildings that somehow stood upright that others walked in and out of.  Most of the buildings had tarps on them to guard from direct sunlight and some had small rusted cars and trucks next to them.  Whether they were still in commission or not, Thomas couldn’t tell.  But it didn’t matter anymore.  This wasn’t a place for driving. This was a place people inhabited.

            This, he thought, could have been a Safe Haven.  This could have been everything he’d need.  No walls for miles, just water, briny air and a cool breeze.

            “Tommy, come on.”

            Thomas pulled his gaze from the water and looked over to Newt who beckoned for him to follow him.  Thomas nodded and fell into step next to him and they walked across the stone and followed the group as they walked closer to the docks.

            _Yes,_ he nodded to himself, _this could have been a Safe Haven._

It made him wonder, for the first time, what the Safe Haven would be.

After a few hours, the group was able to find a recently vacated building that they commandeered for themselves.  But it wasn’t like the towns in the Scorch.  No one seemed to object or fight for the space.  No one eyed them suspiciously, nor their trucks and belongings.  Everyone here had the same goal: get to the Safe Haven and leave this place behind.  This close to paradise, no one was bothering to fight anymore. 

            Their new living quarters had several rooms, some with large windows and others where the walls had been caved in completely and replaced with large tarps.  More rooms didn’t have many windows at all, only brick walls that blended into plaster walls with faded and chipped paint. Stone floors covered in bits of carpet here and there made up the base of the house.  

            There were tables, chairs, and beds among the mismatched and broken furniture.  Rusted sinks and other broken down machines that Thomas barely registered lined the walls.  Crates littered the floors.  Some were spread out, others were piled in corners of the rooms. Cups and plates filled crooked cabinets.  There were jugs of fuel, oil, and more.  Thomas reached up to one of the hanging cabinets and pulled.  A heavy bag fell out, banging onto his arm before spilling all over the floor.

            “What was that?” Vince called over.

            “Sorry!” Thomas yelled back through the rooms.  He looked down to the floor.

            “Is that rice?” Newt asked, crouching down next to it.

            “Looks like it,” Thomas laughed.

            Newt looked up at the cabinet behind Thomas.  He stood and Thomas followed his gaze to look at the rest of the food packed into it.  He watched as Newt reached up and opened the cabinet next to it where more dry food was packed onto the shelves. Thomas exchanged a look with Newt.

            “Not a bad place to stay,” Newt shrugged.

            Thomas looked back up at the expanse of food.

            “I’m gonna get Frypan,” Newt laughed as he carefully stepped over the spilled rice.  “He’s gonna love this.”

            Thomas watched the way Newt leaned heavily on one side.  He knew he’d always had a weaker leg, but had it always been this noticeable?  Some days it felt like Thomas barely saw it.  Perhaps he would keep a closer eye on it.

            Thomas looked back into the cabinet.  He supposed Newt was right: it wasn’t a bad place to stay.  It was a shame they wouldn’t be staying long.

            “Hey,” Vince’s voice came from one of the crumbled holes in the wall between rooms.  “I’m gonna go outside and check around to see what the deal with the boats is.”

            “Sure,” Thomas nodded.

            Vince disappeared through a heavy door that lead outside and Thomas stood in the quiet of the kitchen.  There was silence around him – but it wasn’t a familiar silence.  It was a silence accented with lapping water, a voice shouting in the distance echoed by laughter, construction somewhere across the way.  His ears filled with rushing blood as his heart pounded in his chest.  He leaned forward and gripped the countertop with weakened arms.  His head swam, his eyes watered, and his throat tightened. 

            “Tommy?”

            A cold hand gripped his wrist.

            His eyes sprang open and he turned to see Newt’s face swim into view, brows furrowed over eyes that darted between his own.  Frypan stood just behind him, watching Thomas with a look of concern.

            “You alright, Thomas?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas nodded.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

            “Why don’t you go lie down?” Newt suggested.

            “No, really,” Thomas pushed himself off the counter to stand and took a breath.  “Sorry,” he shook his head.

            Newt continued to watch him, but Frypan stepped up and spoke. “It’s this place, isn’t it?”

            Thomas switched his gaze to him and watched as Frypan looked around the room.

            “Happened to me too.”

            “What did?” Newt asked.

            “Head rush, I think,” Frypan shrugged.  “The quiet, the air.  I think it’s the fresh air out here, actually.  Or maybe it’s just all in our heads.  The difference of it all.”

            Thomas couldn’t help but think Frypan was onto something. 

            “It all kind of hit me outside, actually,” Frypan continued.  “Looks like you lasted a bit longer.”

            “What happened?” Newt asked.

            “Like I said, a headrush.  Got dizzy, started sweating.  I think it was just the idea of somewhere safe. Somewhere so close to being away from everything.” He looked at Thomas.  “I get it.”

            Thomas nodded at him, thankful he wasn’t alone. 

            Newt looked between the two of them.  “Alright,” he swallowed, seemed to consider this.  “You’re both crazy.  Great.  Perfect.  Looks like I’ll be doing the rest of this on my own, then.”

            Frypan shoved Newt lightly into the counter as the three of them shared a laugh.  Thomas’ head seemed to have cleared and he was able to take a deeper breath now that his heartrate had calmed.

            “Well, if you’re feeling better,” Newt gestured to Frypan, “think you can give us a hand in getting some of this food cooked?”

            Frypan shook his head.  “Man, you think I’m gonna let you touch any of this food?  I haven’t forgotten the kebab incident.”

            Newt’s cheeks flushed.

            “The what?” Thomas looked between them.

            Frypan barked a laugh as Newt grabbed Thomas’ arm.  “Now you get no help,” he growled at Frypan.

            “What happened?” Thomas laughed as he let Newt lead him back outside.

            “Nothing important.”

            Frypan’s laughter echoed behind them through the hall.

 

            Thomas followed Newt outside into the cool breeze.  Most of the group was sat around a small fire where Jorge was boiling a pot of water.

            “What’s this?” Thomas nodded at it.

            “He’s trying to make tea,” Brenda said.

            The others all exchanged a glance before laughter rippled around the circle.

            “What’s so funny about tea?” Isaac asked.

            Josh shook his head.  “Had to be there.”

            Thomas nodded to Bernard. “How’re you doing?”  
  
            Bernard shifted his head from Josh’s shoulder to look over at Thomas.  “Been better, but I’m alright I guess.”  
  
            Thomas gave him a small smile and then turned to look over his shoulder.  He scanned the crowd before he turned back.  “Vince still out there?”

            “Yeah,” Jorge exhaled as he dropped down onto a seat next to Brenda.  “Finding out what the boat schedule is and where they go.”

            Thomas watched the flames for a bit before he spoke up again.  “When we get the others, we’ll have to get on a boat out of here to the Safe Haven?”

            Jorge nodded.  “Looks like it.  I don’t think there’s any way to drive to it.  From what I can gather it’s out across the sea.”

            Thomas turned again to look across the water.  Nothing for miles except broken hulls and capsized boats.

            “Not to mention,” Brenda said quietly, “we still don’t know how we’re getting them all here.  There’s no way we’re fitting fifty of them plus however many of us into, what, four cars?”

            Thomas put a hand on his leg to keep it from bouncing.  “We’ll figure it out.  First, we need to find the facility.”  
  
            “Thomas,” Harriet laughed.  “You’re doing everything backwards.  Don’t you think we should know how we’re getting them out here first? Maybe where we’re going?”  
            “We’re running out of time, Harriet.”

            “It’s been five months.  Another day or two isn’t going to make it any worse.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  _Five months_. Had it really almost been half a year?  Thomas looked up around the circle.  They didn’t look much older, did they? Maybe he just didn’t notice from being around them every day.  He wondered if Minho would look any different.

            A hand on the small of his back brought him back to the conversation.  Newt’s head was tilted as he spoke. “Could work,” he contemplated. “But I still think it’d be too tricky to get all of them to the same exit.”

            “We can try to stage ourselves at a few different ones, but separating the group seems dangerous,” Harriet countered.

            “The problem is that we don’t know what the facility even looks like,” Bernard added. “It could be three floors, it could be one, it could be fifty for all we know.  We have no idea what the inside looks like and how many guards there will be.  There are too many unanswered questions.”

            “Is there any way we could get a map to the facility?” Thomas spoke up.  “Maybe from one of the trains?”

            “You wanna do another heist?” Josh asked.

            Thomas shrugged, half of his mind concentrated on the fingers trailing soothing lines along his back.  “I don’t know what I wanna do.”

            Jorge stood up to take the pot from the flames.  “Well, that’s why we’re here.  To figure it out, discuss options and plans.  We don’t need to have an answer right away, _hermano_.” He stepped over one of the rocks and made his way into the building.

            “Why don’t we start with what we know,” Harriet continued.  “We know that a berg protects one of the trains that is prioritized to go straight to a facility.”

            “We _think_ that,” Josh corrected.

            Harriet simply held up a hand to quiet him.  “We know that WCKD has more than one facility and also several trains running throughout the desert. We know that the trains run on sporadic times.”

            “Do they?” Thomas asked.  “It’s WCKD. I’m sure they have some sort of schedule.”

            “It _is_ the same organization that sent someone up the same time every month,” Newt reasoned.  “And had specific codes and timings for the Maze shifting.”

            “Remember the trees?” Bernard looked up at Josh.

            “They’d sprout or fall in the same pattern every third day,” Josh explained to the others.  “The fallen ones created a route for our Mappers, but it would change. The trees would raise up again and others would fall to create a completely new route.”  
  
            “Just like our Maze,” Thomas nodded.

            “Okay,” Harriet nodded. “So there’s most likely a schedule for the trains.  How do we figure it out?”

            Thomas turned to Isaac.  “Any chance you remember the last ten trains?”

            “I don’t, but Rebecca would.”

            “Okay,” Josh laughed. “That’s helpful, considering she’s gone. Anyone else?”  
  
            “Micah,” Isaac answered quietly. 

            Thomas felt Newt shift next to him. 

            “Anyone else?” Josh repeated.

            Isaac shrugged. “The two of them were always the ones who went.”

            “What about Drea?” Thomas asked.  “Wasn’t she always the driver?”

            Isaac tilted his head.  “That’s true. You could try asking her.”

            “Where is she?” Newt asked.

            Isaac scratched the back of his neck.  “She stayed back in the town.”

            “She what?” Thomas asked.

            “I thought you were the observant one?” Isaac said, dropping his hand.  “She stayed behind.”

            “Why would she do that?  I thought she wanted to get to the Safe Haven.”

            Isaac shrugged.  “People do weird things. I don’t ask.”

            “So, our only hope is that snake, Micah?” Harriet asked.

            “He’s not a snake,” Isaac said.  “He’s just sick.”

            “He’s an asshole,” Josh countered.

            “Whatever,” Thomas cut them off.  “Where is he?”

            Isaac pointed with his chin behind Thomas.  “He took that hut over there.”

            Thomas turned to look over his shoulder at a small beaten-down shed.  He turned back to the group.  “Anyone coming with?”

            Newt stood up.  “We’re going now?”

            Thomas looked up at him.  “I thought maybe you could try to get a radio going? Find a clear station that might get us more information on when the next trains are moving out.”

            Newt lowered his brow.  “I’ll bring it with us.”

            Thomas couldn’t help the unease in his chest, but couldn’t explain it either.  “Okay,” he nodded.  “Bring it.”

           

            Thomas rapped his knuckles on the door of the small shed, careful of the wood splintering off of the door.  There was a rusted, open padlock hanging from a metal handle. 

            “What?” Micah’s voice called from inside.

            “Pleasant,” Newt mumbled.

            “Micah, it’s Thomas,” he called through the wood.  “I wanna talk to you.”  
  
            There was a shuffling somewhere behind the door before it was eased open toward them.  “Thomas,” Micah’s voice purred as he slowly emerged from the sliver of an opening.  His right eye was still swollen and bruised, a long gash stretched from his temple down to the middle of his cheek.  Black lines spidered their way up his neck and spilled onto his jaw.  “I’d wondered whe-… oh,” his eyes fell on Newt.  “I see you brought the guard dog.”

            “Can we talk?” Thomas barreled on.

            Micah’s eyes slid back to Thomas and it was then that Thomas could see that his pupils were blown wide, only a sliver of green remaining.  He paused, watching Thomas for a minute.  “Fine,” he answered.  He pushed the door open wider for Thomas to enter.  “Come in, make yourself at home.”  
  
            Thomas slid past Micah into the small shed, Newt close behind.

            “Try not to piss on the furniture,” Micah sneered.

            Newt, to Thomas’ gratitude, did not bother responding.

            Micah pulled the door shut behind them and the light was limited to whatever poured through the broken slats and from a small lamp with an adjustable neck.  The shed was made up of just one small wooden room with minimal furniture taking up its space.  Micah took a seat next to the lamp on an overstuffed sofa with a few tears in it.  He gestured to a long couch across from him.  “Have a seat.  Be careful though, a lot of the cushions will just sink below your weight and you’ll end up on the floor.  Try to avoid those.”

            Thomas took a seat on one of the middle cushions and was happy to find it was stable.  He turned and patted the one next to him for Newt.

            “Ooh,” Micah made a face.  “Not that one.”

            Newt paused before moving to the other cushion.

            “I wouldn’t sit there either.”  
  
            Newt exhaled through his nose.  He stepped over Thomas’ legs to the other side of him and started to sit, but stopped when Micah inhaled a sharp breath and tilted his head. Thomas watched as Newt stood, tongue grazing his top row of teeth and tucking itself into the corner of his mouth.

            “Just sit at the table,” Thomas said quietly, gesturing to a wooden picnic table tucked against the wall.

            Newt glanced down at him once before he walked to the table and leaned against it, arms crossed. 

            Micah offered him a wide smile.

            Thomas cleared his throat.  “We came here because we wanted to talk to you about the trains.”

            “Oh,” Micah frowned at him.  He turned and lifted a tin mug from the side table.  “And here I was thinking you just missed me.”

            “The less you interrupt, the faster this will go,” Newt explained.

            Micah turned to him.  “I take it that goes for you as well?”

            “It goes for both of you,” Thomas said, avoiding Newt’s eye.  He’d apologize later.  He just needed Micah to talk and then they could get out of there.  He was already feeling grimy just being in this shed. 

            Micah turned back to Thomas.  “What would you like to know?”

            “I want to work out what the train schedule was.”  
  
            Micah blinked at him.  “And what makes you think I have any idea what that is?”

            “You were at every heist.”

            “Almost every heist,” Micah grinned.

            “Close enough,” Thomas shrugged.  “We think that if we write all the times down, we might be able to figure out a pattern.”

            “And what makes you think I remember them all?”

            “You remembered everything we told you the last time we met and that was months ago,” Newt spoke up.  “Don’t try to act like you don’t catalog information away to hold over people.”

            Micah turned to smile at Newt.  He tapped at his head.  “My mind’s not what it used to be.”

            Newt stared at him for a moment before pulling his gaze away in favor of taking in the details of the room.

            Thomas jumped in then.  “Whatever you remember would be helpful enough. Just please try to give us as much detail as you can.  I still stand by my promise.  You help us get Minho, we help you get into the Safe Haven.”  
  
            Micah narrowed his eyes and the bits of green nearly disappeared, his eyes black as night.  “You’re still willing to bring me with you?”

            “A promise is a promise,” Thomas said. 

            Micah sat back on the sofa and eyed him.  “You’re not like the others.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Everyone here is only ever looking out for themselves.  You seem to be looking out for everyone.”

            “I’m looking out for my friends.  If that means getting you to safety as a stepping stone, then so be it.”

            Micah’s grin lifted on one side and it sent something creeping up Thomas’ spine.  “I don’t think that’s true, but whatever you say.”

            Thomas nodded. “The trains?”

            “Right,” Micah reached over to place his cup down on the table.  “You have a pen and paper?”

            Thomas reached into his back pocket and passed the folded paper and pencil over.  He ignored the way Micah’s fingers trailed on his own as he took the paper. 

            Micah began to scribble away on the paper as he spoke.  “You know,” he started, “the trains didn’t always come this often.  They started showing up very slowly.  One train every two weeks or so.  It wasn’t until the last three months that the trains began coming weekly.  Even more than that.  They’ve since gotten to two or three times a week depending on the Rota.  That’s when you showed up, of course.” He gestured to Thomas with the pencil, but didn’t bother to look up. 

            “So, they’ve been traveling more frequently,” Thomas nodded. 

            “And crossing more paths.”

            “What do you mean?” Newt asked.

            “They’ve not only started running more frequently, but more trains have been running at the same time.  Sometimes up to six different trains a week.”

            Thomas folded his hands between his knees as he leaned forward on his elbows. “More trains more frequently.  Why?” He looked up to Newt.  “Why would they be moving more cargo this often in this many different places?”

            “Something must be happening,” Newt shrugged.

            “Or it’s leading to something that’s about to happen,” Micah said.  He reached forward and passed the paper to Thomas with the list of trains.

            “What could be happening?” Newt asked.

            Thomas swallowed.  He didn’t want to consider the options. He looked down at the paper.  Micah was right.  At the top of the paper, starting from three months ago, there was one train.  A week later another train passed.  It wasn’t until the second month that they even saw a second train.  It all seemed to speed up at the start of the last month, multiple trains on multiple tracks.  “Whatever it is, it must be happening soon.”

            Newt pushed off the table and walked over to look down at the sheet over Thomas’ shoulder.  “What are these numbers next to some of the trains?”

            “Train numbers I remembered.”

            Thomas looked up at him and then at Newt.

            Newt’s brow was furrowed as he scanned the list again.  His eyes seemed to slide a bit to the right then, considering something.  He looked back at the list and then reached a hand to Micah.  “Do you have that pencil.”

            “Looking for a bone to chew?”

            Newt looked up at him. “I’ll be looking for a bone to break if you don’t quit with the dog jokes.”

            Micah laughed as he handed the pencil over. “Touchy.”

            Newt snatched the pencil from him and nodded down to the paper.  “May I?”

            Thomas stood and handed the paper to Newt.  He followed him to the table again and watched over his shoulder as Newt scribbled a number next to the last train on the list.

            _095672_

Thomas tilted his head at it.

            “It was written above the weight,” Newt answered.

            Thomas scanned down the list.  “This train has showed up twice before.”  He looked at the rest of them.  “It was by itself once but it crossed with 095775 once before.  Do you think it crossed with the same train last time?”

            “Micah,” Newt called over.  “Any chance you remember when a berg might’ve shown up during these train runs?”

            Thomas turned to look at him.

            “Hmm,” he considered. 

            “Come on, Micah,” Thomas sighed. 

            “Well,” Micah said, pushing himself to stand.  “If you’re not gonna be fun about it, I guess I’ll just give it to you.”  He stepped between Thomas and Newt, pulling the pencil from Newt’s hand. “But you’ll owe me.”

            Thomas met Newt’s eyes over Micah’s back.

            Newt gave Thomas a look of warning.

            Thomas merely shook his head.

            A muscle flickered in Newt’s jaw.

            Thomas shook his head again and held up a hand.

            Newt shifted his stance and looked down at the paper where Micah continued to scribble.

            Thomas did the same, thankful Newt understood his meaning. _Just let him say what he wants, as long as he gives us answers._

            “There,” Micah said as he tossed the pencil onto the table.  “The ones with bergs have stars next to them.”

            Thomas scanned the list.  The top few trains had no stars.  The first one didn’t appear until the second month – a train by itself.  Since that one, it was always a crossing train.  Thomas snatched the pencil and began to scribble the train numbers in a column on the other side.  His heart began to hammer in his chest as he reread the list he wrote out.  He looked up and locked eyes with Newt. 

            “That’s it,” Newt nodded.

            Thomas looked back down at the list.  “That’s it,” he agreed.  He circled the repeating number.

            _095688._

            “But why would the berg only ever be following that one train?” Newt asked as they walked to the group.  The sun had dipped low now, shining directly out from the horizon beneath an orange sky. 

            “That must have whatever is most valuable on it.  I guess they never change the train.”

            “What could possibly be that valuable?”  
  
            Thomas stopped walking.  “Wait a second.”

            “What?” Newt looked back at him.

            “Maybe it’s not what they’re keeping on the train.  Maybe it’s the train itself? Maybe something about that train specifically is why they’re using it to transport everything?”  
  
            Newt lowered a brow.  “They’re protecting the actual train?”

            “What else was written on the train? Do you remember?”

            Newt shook his head.  “It just had the weight and train number.” Newt’s eyes cleared as he looked at Thomas.  “No, there was another number.  Above the weight.”  His face fell a bit.  “I don’t remember what it was though.”

            “You said it might have been what the train could carry, right?”  
  
            Newt nodded, brow furrowing in concentration.

            “Maybe this,” Thomas gestured vaguely, “09 whatever train can carry more weight than the others?”

            “095688,” Newt tilted his head.  “Or maybe less weight.  It’d move faster then.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “We have too many maybes.  We need something solid.”

            “How much of this do you think is accurate anyway?” Newt asked suddenly.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean Micah,” Newt scratched at the back of his neck.  “Is he even reliable?”

            “He’s all we’ve got right now,” Thomas shrugged.

            “He even said it himself though,” Newt pressed on.  “His mind isn’t what it used to be.”

            “He’s all we’ve got,” Thomas repeated.  He made to walk toward the group again, but stopped when Newt grabbed his arm. 

            “I just want to make sure we’re not being pulled around in circles.  We’ve spent enough time-”

            “-I know how much time we’ve wasted.” Thomas said.  “We’re wasting more with this conversation.”

            Newt’s brow flicked up.  He dropped his hand to his side.

            Thomas shook his head. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

            “Yes,” Newt said. “It was.”

            “Listen, I’m here with you. I get it.  He’s unreliable. But I’m already beating myself up about where we’ve been, what’s happened, what could happen.  I need you to have some faith in me, because I don’t really have it in myself right now.”  
  
            Newt tilted his head.  “I always do.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze. 

            “I’m sorry,” Newt added.  “I didn’t mean to add to the stress.”  
  
            “What?” Thomas looked up at him.  “No, you-”

            “Thomas!”

            Thomas turned to see Frypan jogging over to them.  “Fry, what is it?”

            Frypan slowed to a stop and let a breath out.  “Come with me.  You’re gonna want to hear this.”

            Thomas glanced at Newt before following Frypan to two strangers around their age. 

            “Thomas, Newt,” Frypan gestured to them, “this is Celina and Joel.”

            “Nice to meet you,” Celina nodded.

            “You too,” Thomas nodded back. “What’s going on?”

            “Frypan mentioned you guys were all curious about the WCKD trains,” she explained.

            “Yeah, do you know about them?”

            “I know one detail that your boy here seems to think relevant to your mission.”

            Thomas flicked his gaze to Frypan before looking at her again.  “Our mission?”

            “Don’t worry. He didn’t give us details,” the girl laughed.  “You don’t have to worry though.  We’re on your side.  WCKD hurt us too. Whatever you’re doing to upset WCKD, we support. If we can help by telling you there are people on the trains, then so be it.”

            “That there are what?” Thomas asked. 

            “People,” Celina repeated.  “There are people on the trains.”

            Thomas shook his head, trying to understand.  “Like, the guards?”

            “Well, yeah, but others too.”

            “People, Thomas,” Frypan emphasized.  “She said they called them ‘subjects’.”

            “Subjects?” Newt asked.

            “Hang on,” Thomas said.  “Start from the beginning.”

            “Well, Joel and I were trying to jump trains.  Take them as a way to cross the Scorch to get here.  We’d ride on the backs of them for miles.  Whenever they stopped to do checks we’d literally have to crawl beneath the last car and lay on the tracks until the guards went back.”

            Thomas suppressed a shudder.

            “Anyway,” Celina continued.  “One of the times that we were hiding on the tracks, one of the guards’ radios went off.  Said something about one of the subjects acting out.  The train that was crossing stopped and the guards from our train ran over to that one.  We didn’t see much, but I could hear the scuffle inside the train.  There were shouts.  A lot of them.”

            “Were there any names?” Newt asked.

            Celina shook her head.  “Couldn’t really hear much.  It was too far of a distance. But it was a good enough distraction for us to get away.”

            “But there were people,” Thomas confirmed. “People that were fighting with WCKD?”

            “I don’t know if they were fighting with WCKD or with each other.  All I know is that there was a fight and the guards all ran over to it.”

            “You didn’t see any of the people?” Newt asked.

            Celina shook her head.  “Not clearly. Joel said he saw someone get tossed out of the train car, but we didn’t stick around to watch.”

            “Did you see what that person looked like?” Newt asked him.  “The one pushed from the car.  Black hair? Kind of muscular? Tall?”

            The boy furrowed a brow and then shook his head.

            “Anything about him?”

            Joel shook his head again, paused to think and then shook his head once more.

            Thomas couldn’t bring himself to look at Newt.  He knew the disappointment that would be written on his face.  “Okay, say that was Minho. They obviously moved them,” Thomas said. “Why are they moving them?”

            “Better question might be where,” Frypan said.

            “He’s got a point,” Newt agreed. 

            “Do you know what train it was?” Thomas turned back to Celina.  “Train number?”

            “No, sorry.”

            “Was there a berg?” Thomas pressed.

            “Ummm, there might have been? I think so, yeah.”  
  
            “You think so or there was?”

            “I really don’t remember. I was running for my life trying not to get caught.”

            Thomas exhaled.  “Sorry, it’s just that WCKD captured our friends. We’ve been looking for them for months and I think we might have finally found a lead on where they’re keeping them.”

            “Where was the train headed?” Newt asked. “The one you were on?”

            “This way, but like I said, we got off it early. Had to wait around and walk until we found another headed out this way.”

            “Do you remember where it stopped by any chance?” Thomas asked.

            Joel tapped Celina on the arm and motioned something to her with his hands.

            “That’s right!” she exclaimed.

            “What?” Thomas asked looking between the two of them.

            “There was an overturned boat a few miles out from where we got off of the train.  We hid there for shelter for a bit until we heard more trains in the distance.”

            “An overturned boat,” Thomas repeated. His gaze flicked behind her to the large boats resting in the water.

            “Not like those,” she said without turning around.  “Like a small rowboat. A canoe, maybe.  It was half buried in the sand.”

            Joel tapped her again and made another signal with his hands.

            Thomas watched patiently as Celina nodded, a smile growing. “That’s right!” She exclaimed again.  “The boat said something on the side.  Pentina?”

            “Pentina?” Newt repeated.

            “It was the end of a word. The rest was buried in the sand.”

            Thomas reached into his back pocket and pulled out the map.  “Celina, do you think you might remember where this Pentina boat was on a map?”

            She looked uneasily at the map.  “I’m not sure, it was two days’ worth of a train ride complete with stops.  If that helps you.”

            Thomas looked at the map.  He pointed to a spot of flatland.  “Do you think it was maybe here?”

            “I really don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. Not really that helpful, I guess.”

            “No, no,” Thomas shook his head as he folded up the map, swallowing his disappointment.  “No, this was really helpful, actually. Thank you.” He nodded to her and then looked at Joel. “Thank you.”

            Joel made a hand motion at him as Celina nodded.  “Good luck with everything,” she said.  “If there’s anything else we can think of, I’ll come find you.”

            Thomas offered a smile before turning away and heading back to the group.

            “Pentina,” Newt repeated.

            “A few miles from that boat there was a train crossing with Minho on it,” Thomas said more to himself than to the others. “And that train had a berg following it.  It had to be the same train.” He looked up at Newt now.  “It had to be, right?”

            Newt shrugged. “Might be.”

            “Same train as what?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas pulled the sheet of paper from his back pocket that had the train numbers on it.  “Micah gave us this list.  This 095688 train always had a berg following it and the other trains always stopped to let it pass.  I think that’s the train that Celina and Joel saw.  That’s gotta be the train that’s got Minho on it.”

            Frypan exhaled, letting out a low whistle.  “It all seems to match up.”

            “We just need to find out what direction that train was headed.”

            “Okay, that should be easy enough,” Newt said. “I think we might be… Thomas?”

            Thomas tilted his head, staring at the sheet of paper.  His eyes glazed over as the sheet fluttered from his fingers to the sand.

            “Tommy?” Newt reached out a hand to his hip. “What is it?”  
  
            Thomas looked up at Newt.  “We were there.”

            “Where?”

            “We were right there, Newt, the-” Thomas reached up with his hands and gripped his hair.  This couldn’t be real. There was no way they were that close.  “The train.”

            “What train?”

            “The train from the last heist,” Thomas dropped his hands.  “The berg was following it.  That was Minho’s train.”

            Newt’s face cleared suddenly as understanding dawned. 

            “He was there. He was right fucking-” Thomas swallowed his words. “He was right there.”

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! For anyone who might have missed it last time - there is a final chapter count now. Only a few left! Bittersweet times.
> 
> Notes!
> 
> 1\. The Group's Doubt - Thomas gets overexcited sometimes thinking he has an answer. The group is started to grow weary of it, sadly. But, they bring up a good point. They need to know where they're going once they rescue their friends. Only makes sense to scope it out first.
> 
> 2\. The Docks - Hmmm, seem familiar? (Eek, hope so. If not, I need to work on my descriptions lol). It's meant to be the docks from TDC where they go after the heist. I've always had a personal HC about Thomas and water. So, have that little section about him being stunned by the sea. 
> 
> 3\. Thomas' Mini Panic Attack - Just a small bit here, but Thomas has spent his whole life running from WCKD. Seeing the docks and actually being this close to The Safe Haven sort of triggered something inside of him. It's almost over, he's almost free - he's so close to that freedom. It's a headrush. 
> 
> 4\. Micah's Help - Going to Micah for help was, of course, the last thing Thomas wanted to do. But at this point, he'd talk to whoever he could to get answers that might lead him closer to Minho. Even if it means this skeevy kid. And hey, Micah delivered! Now if only we knew if we could trust him, Crank brain or not.....
> 
> 5\. Celina and Joel - Thanks to Quinn for the names here! Two more kids trying to hide from WCKD and make it to the Safe Haven. Maze kids? More than likely. At least they were able to give some info. Thanks to another great friend of mine, Manda, for coming up with the upturned boat's name! You only get half of it now, but perhaps eventually the full name will be revealed. If it's necessary.
> 
>  
> 
> Slowly winding down now to the end. Blows my mind that we made it here. Thank you to everyone who has been following along! <3 Love and appreciate you all.


	32. On Calculations and Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: How Many Different Ways Can We Steal Kids From a Train?

 

            Thomas popped the magazine of the gun out, checked the ammunition and pushed it back in again.  He put the safety on and tucked it into the back of his jeans, cool metal a slight shock against his lower back.  He was sure he would figure out how to use it when the time came.

            “Tommy, can you slow down?”

            Thomas tossed another box of ammunition in the messenger bag and snatched a set of walkies from the table.

            “Thomas,” Newt repeated, a shadow behind Thomas’ every step. “Thomas, would you stop for two seconds?”

            Thomas felt a hand wrap around his arm but he pulled forward out of Newt’s grasp.  He spun on the spot to find Newt an inch away from him.  “What? Why are we stopping?”

            Newt blinked at Thomas.  “Where are you going?”

            “What do you mean where am I going?” Thomas shook his head.  “We’re going to get Minho back.”    

            “You’re going to run yourself right into WCKD’s arms.”

            Thomas exhaled an exasperated breath before he turned back to the messenger bag and shoved the walkies inside.  “It was Minho.  He was right there. We found him once we can do it again.”  He buckled the straps of the bag shut and then pulled on them once to make sure they held closed.  “I’m not missing out on this chance,” he said as he swung the bag over his head.  He turned to look at Newt and Frypan.  “Not when we’re this close.”

            “Can you just hold off for a second, mate?” Newt asked, brows furrowed.  “You’re running yourself into the ground here. We have no solid answers, we’ve got nowhere to start. Where exactly do you plan on going?”

            Thomas tightened his grip on the strap of the bag.  “Wherever that train is headed.”

            “And how do you plan to find it?” Newt pressed on.  He folded his arms and tilted his head and Thomas hated something about the condescension.  “And how do you then plan to get them off the train? Sneaking them away from WCKD? Getting back here? Gonna shove them all in your little messenger bag there, are you?”

            “Newt,” Thomas laughed.  “I’ll figure it out on the way.  I’m not wasting anymore time here when I know he’s out there.”

            “We’ve always known he was out there,” Newt took a step forward, dropping his arms.  “The only difference is now we know where he _was_.”

            “The more time we put between when he was there and us getting there is putting him further from us.”

            “You don’t even know when it was Celina and Joel saw the train,” Newt said.  “That could’ve been months ago for all we know.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to respond but no words came.  He settled on “I didn’t think of that.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Newt nodded. “You’re too busy running around strapping weaponry to yourself ready to charge into danger without a plan. Again.”

            Thomas looked up at Newt.

            “We need a plan, Tommy,” Newt shrugged.  “A solid plan that’s going to actually get Minho out of there. You say you’re done wasting time, then let’s do this right so there are no mistakes.  Let’s do this right so we don’t waste any more time.”

            Thomas cricked his neck to the side and readjusted the bag. 

            Newt took another step forward and reached his hand out, but paused a few inches from Thomas’ own.  He raised his brows and lowered his head, questioning.

            Thomas worked his jaw and then nodded.

            Newt continued to reach forward and slowly uncurled Thomas’ fingers from the strap of the bag and brought it down to his side.  Then he reached up and lifted the bag from around Thomas and rested it back on the table before he looked at Thomas again.  “Why don’t we go downstairs, have some food and discuss this with the others?  Maybe one of them will have found something out, too.  Vince should be back soon and might have found out information on the boats.  Maybe we can talk to Celina and Joel again.”

            Thomas nodded.

            “You’re not gonna run off on me, yeah?” Newt asked, a slight tilt to his smile.

            Thomas nodded again.

            Newt’s hand wrapped around Thomas’.  “You’re not plotting an escape, are you?”

            Thomas broke a smile at that and Newt’s grew as well. “I’m not gonna go anywhere.”

            “Not without me,” Newt added softly.

            “Not without you,” Thomas repeated.

            Frypan cleared his throat. “I’ll go make sure they haven’t eaten all of the food yet.”

            Thomas flicked his eyes up, angling his head a bit to see Frypan smiling and pointing at the door. 

            Newt let out a small laugh before he turned around to face him.  “We’ll be down in a minute.”

            Frypan gave them a look that Thomas didn’t quite feel like interpreting, and then disappeared into the hallway.

            Newt turned back to Thomas then, taking his other hand in his as well.  “I’m serious, Tommy.”

            Thomas pulled his attention back to Newt.  “I know.”

            “I don’t want you going off and running head first into something without a solid plan.”

            Thomas took a deep breath, pushing the words back down inside of him.  He fought the urge, but his eyes still rolled.  He pulled his hands from Newt and turned away. “It was completely different then and you know it.”

            “Was it?” Newt asked.

            “That was months ago,” Thomas said as he turned back to him.  “And for the record, I did have a plan then.  You were the ones who changed it up last minute.”

            Newt shook his head. “You were out of your head.  You wanted to storm WCKD’s facility with five of us and two cars.”  
  
            “We were supposed to steal one of WCKD’s,” Thomas reminded him.

            “And you were going to hotwire it, were you?” Newt asked.

            “Matt was gonna steal the keys,” Thomas corrected, hating the bite in his tone. “If you were so against the plan in the first place why did you even agree to go?”

            A small breath of a laugh escaped Newt.  “Because it’s you, Thomas.”

            Thomas eyed him.

            “There was no question of whether or not I’d go with you,” he shook his head.  “There _is_ no question of it.”

            “It sure feels like there is right now.”

            Something flinched on Newt’s face.  “All I’m asking is that you take a bit more time to plan.”

            Thomas nodded. “I know, I’m just…” his words trailed off. He didn’t know what he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was doing.  He ran a hand down his face.  “I just want this to be over.”

            “So do I,” Newt said quietly.  “Just as much as you.”

            “I know,” Thomas looked back at him. He could see shadows along Newt’s face.  He knew Newt was stressed about this just as much – if not more – than he was.  Thomas wanted Minho back.  He’d made a promise to him.  He was someone Thomas grew attached to immediately back in the Maze.  But there was something in Newt’s demeanor, something in his voice that broke every time Minho was brought up.  Thomas knew they had known each other for years before he was even up in the Glade and it was a history that Thomas might never know. Still, he knew there was a weight on Newt’s shoulders as well.

            He nodded to himself.  If Newt could stand to take time and not rush into this, then so could he.  If Newt was going to be patient and make sure they had a perfect plan before reaching WCKD, then so would he.  “Thanks, Newt,” he mumbled.

            Newt’s head twitched a bit to the side.  “Hmm?”

            “Thank you,” Thomas said a bit clearer.  “For doing this with me.  I know all those months ago you didn’t think we even had a chance, but you still came with me.”

            “I told you,” Newt said.  “It’s you.  The same you who got us out of the Maze, out of WCKD’s facility, through the Scorch, through mountains and whatever else we came across.  You think I wouldn’t trust you to get us through this as well?”

            Thomas shrugged. “Maybe.”

            Newt’s face broke into a smile as he stepped forward.  “Haven’t you figured it out by now, Tommy?”

            Thomas kept his eyes locked on Newt’s as he came closer, stopping just a few inches from him.  They stood in silence for a moment just looking at each other.  Thomas let everything Newt had said wash over him.  Everything from the Maze to the Scorch and more.  Every single time, Newt had been right behind him.  Yes, Minho and Newt had years together, a history.  But so did he and Newt.  And now it was on him to make sure all three of them had a future.  

            “Let’s talk to the others,” Thomas said quietly.  “We’ll put together a plan.  A solid plan.  We’ll get Minho and the others back, we’ll make it to the Safe Haven.” Thomas swallowed, heart beating heavily in his chest.  He glanced down to Newt’s heart as if he’d be able to see how fast his might have been beating as well.  “And you and me?” he continued, dragging his eyes back up to Newt.  “We’ll have all the time in the world. No more rushing around.”

            Newt’s eyes flicked between Thomas’ and a small smile curled on his face.  But a blink later, his gaze fell and he took a step back.  “We should probably,” he cleared his throat and made to turn, but stumbled a bit.

            Thomas stepped forward, but stilled as Newt caught his balance. “You okay?” Thomas couldn’t help the smirk at watching Newt fumble about.

            “Yeah, stupid leg,” Newt breathed out a laugh, punctuated with a swallow.  “We should get downstairs.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Newt?”

            “I don’t trust Josh not to eat all the good stuff, y’know?”

            “Newt,” Thomas repeated.

            Newt paused in the doorway.  “I’m good, Tommy,” he said softly.  He turned to face Thomas. “Just tripped a bit. Let’s go. Race you to the bottom, yeah?” he smiled before walking out the door, weight heavily on one side.

            Thomas breathed around the unease trapped in his chest.  A switch flipped somewhere in the room, around Newt specifically. Thomas could feel something roiling from him, but more than that, Thomas could see something different in him.  It was nerves, it was fear.  In a weird way, Thomas couldn’t help but think Newt was afraid of a future, of a place where they could be at rest.  Somewhere to relax.

            He wondered when the last time Newt felt relaxed was. 

            _Right_ , Thomas worked to keep his leg from bouncing.  _It was before I got to the Glade. Before I came up in the Box and changed everything. Before I ruined everything._

Thomas let out a long exhale.  He was going to fix this.  He was going to fix everything.

 

***

 

            Harriet nodded. “Well, I will say he definitely helped more than I thought he would.”  She passed the paper to Brenda. “You really think that’s the train?”

            “Makes the most sense,” Thomas shrugged.  “You saw the way the berg followed the other one.  It was protecting it. And they’re saying a berg was protecting a train with kids on it, and according to this list, every time this train showed up there was a berg around.”

            “Smarter than you look, Thomas,” Brenda said as she reached forward to pass him the paper.

            He snatched it back from her and smiled. “Could say the same for you but I’m not sure I’d be telling the truth.”

            Brenda narrowed her eyes at him.  “You’re lucky I’m too hungry to punch you right now.”

            “Speaking of which,” Harriet leaned back in the wooden chair she had dragged out from the house earlier.  “Frypan!” She called toward the open door.  “How much longer?”

            “Five minutes closer since the last time you asked me!” Frypan’s voice called out from the house.  Then his head poked out from the doorway as he pointed at her with some long utensil.  “Ask again and you get your plate last.”

            Harriet rolled her eyes.

            “I’ll grab two, he’ll never know,” Brenda whispered to her.

            “No, no whispering,” Frypan called back. “I don’t like the whispering.”  
  
            Brenda snorted.

            “Alright, alright,” Thomas waved Frypan to move back in the house. “Go finish up.”  He turned back to Harriet and Brenda. “What do you think?”

            Brenda raised an eyebrow.  “About the trains?”

            “Yeah, about the trains,” Thomas laughed.  “Do you agree? 09…” he looked at the paper and turned it around to read the number.  “095688?”

            Brenda shrugged. “I guess so.”

            “Only thing that lines up,” Harriet added.

            Thomas nodded. “Alright, good. We’re all on board.”

            “On board with what?” Brenda asked.

            Thomas tilted his head a bit to the side. “Still working that part out.”

            Brenda sniggered as Harriet pointed to a rock across from her for him to sit.  “Let’s start this, then.”

            “Really?” Thomas said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

            “Yeah, really,” Harriet said.  “This is a lead, even if it’s skeptical.  If it gets me back to Sonya and Aris then I’m willing to work out a plan to try it out.”

            Thomas took a seat, scooting over enough for Newt to join him.  “Okay.”

            “Alright,” Harriet leaned her elbows on her knees.  “What do we need to figure out first?”

            “We need to figure out how we’re getting all of those people off the train and over here and then to the Safe Haven without being caught by WCKD. And preferably without leading WCKD to the Safe Haven either.”

            Harriet blinked.

            “This is off to a great start,” Brenda smirked.

            “Is there an assembly line thing that we can do?” Josh asked, pushing himself up from where he was apparently lying in the shade on the ground, napping.

            “An assembly line from a moving train?” Brenda scoffed.

            “Let’s not forget that the train in question doesn’t actually make stops,” Harriet said.

            Josh stretched and stepped over one of the rocks before sitting down.  “At least I’m suggesting something.”

            “Okay,” Harriet clasped her hands together. “Can we focus? Did you ask them about the train?”

            “Yeah,” Thomas answered.  “They said it was about three weeks ago.”

            “Which is before we even saw it.”

            “Yep,” Thomas nodded.

            “So, it was moving three weeks ago and then again two weeks after that,” Harriet shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.  Why is it spread out like that?”

            “Not long enough to stay somewhere but not close enough for there to be just short breaks in between,” Brenda said.

            “Unless they were supposed to be staying somewhere and something happened for them to have to move,” Josh said through a yawn.  “That’s a possibility.”  
  
            Thomas turned to Newt.  “Any ideas?”

            Newt dragged his focus back from where it was on the ground.  “Hmm?”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “Any ideas?” he repeated.

            Newt’s eyes widened a bit.  “Yeah,” he nodded.  “I think it has to be the same train. Only makes sense.”

            Thomas felt his eyes narrow a bit, felt the shared glances around the group even more.  He turned to face Newt a bit more and spoke quietly to him.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

            “Yeah,” Newt nodded.  “Yeah, I’m just tired. Haven’t been getting much sleep.”

            “Why don’t you go back inside and lie down for a bit?”

            “I just need a shower and some food to wake up.” Newt pushed himself up to stand.  “You guys keep working on this.”

            Thomas watched Newt amble off toward the shared shower hut.  There was static suddenly and Thomas turned to see Josh fiddling with the knobs on the radio.

            “It’s the antenna,” Brenda nodded at him.  “Newt said you have to extend it all the way to get any type of signal.”

            Josh pulled at the metal rod attached to the small radio and sure enough, a clearer voice broke through.  

            _“-ircling the skies.  On top of that, the trains’ve been moving cargo back and forth across the desert. Every day is a new shipment. Everyone planning to take back from WCKD, your time has come. And remember we are always here. We are fighting back for you. For the good of the future! You can take what you want from WCKD, but they won’t stop until we stop them. You know where we are. You know where to fin-“_

The voice cut off when Josh pushed the antenna down.  “Sorry,” he glanced up at the others. “I can’t listen to the whole recruitment thing again.”

            Thomas didn’t care about the recruitment anyway.  He was more focused on the first part of the message.  “They said every day is a new shipment. That means the trains are moving every day.”

            “Does that mean the train with Sonya and them, though?” Harriet asked.  “It sounded like he’s talking about more cargo. Actual cargo.”

            “I don’t know what he meant. But if the rest of the trains are starting to move more frequently, you can bet they’ll be moving that one again, too.  I mean they’ve moved it twice this month that we know of.”

            “He makes a point,” Brenda said to Harriet.  “Twice that we know of.  Could’ve been more than that.”

            “Is there any real way of knowing?” Josh asked.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Let’s go through the train sightings again.”

 

            The twenty minutes it took to map out the train schedules edged on wasted time. 

            “Did we actually figure anything out?” Brenda asked as she tilted her head at the scribbled mess Thomas drew out on a sheet of paper.

            Thomas tossed it into the center of the group and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know.”

            “What’s this, now?” Newt asked as he joined the circle again.

            “How’re you feeling?” Thomas asked him, lifting his head back up.

            “Been better,” he laughed as he slumped down next to Thomas. “The shower felt good though. Think it helped.”

            Thomas slinked an arm around Newt’s waist and pulled him closer into him. He let Newt lean on his shoulder, any pain barely registering.  He did register how Newt’s hair was still wet, though.  Small, cool droplets slid down his back, taking him away from the moment and to a place where he could relax.  Where Newt could relax.  He wondered if this was what the Safe Haven could be some day.

            “Do we look for the facility first then to see where the train is leaving from?” Harriet asked, pulling him back to the conversation.

            “It might be easier to just search the skies for a berg,” Brenda said.

            “She’s got a point,” Newt said from his place on Thomas’ shoulder.  His voice was low and thick.  Thomas was tired just listening to it. “We’re far more likely to see a berg miles out then we are a train.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Maybe we should sleep on this.  Frypan’s probably almost done cooking and then we should all probably rest and get back to this in the morning.”

            The others eyed him, but he avoided their gazes.  Newt needed to sleep, and Thomas had a feeling that the only way he would is if he knew everyone else was too.

           

 

            The following morning’s discussion didn’t get much better. Neither did the next day’s. There was repetition, more suggestions that wouldn’t quite work, and plenty of tracing over numbers and letters.  Enough so that Thomas started to feel the letters like braille on the other side of the paper.  After so much of this routine, the days began to blend together.

            The Rebel Radio station continued its usual reports.  All the same: always recruiting more members for their force.  Several trains were moving cargo, but never the train they needed.  There were no more signs of bergs from the reports nor from Brenda’s binoculars she stole from one of the nearby houses.  Thomas didn’t ask questions, he only waited for answers.  The most news they received about WCKD was that they were still working on their “wall,” whatever that was.

            Frypan busied himself in the kitchen, sometimes spending an entire day in the shadows of the building buried in bags of rice or wheat, cleaning out cabinets and washing dishes, pots and pans.  Always, always washing.  Thomas offered to help twice.  Both times, Frypan simply shook his head. He emerged one afternoon to make a suggestion on where a facility might be, and Thomas added it to the ever-growing list.  But the truth was none of them knew.  There was only speculation.  There was only ever speculation. After a while, the suggestions were just for positivity, hope.  Writing them down became a habit.  Something to do.

            Jorge made constant adjustments to Bertha.  He fixed up the grate on the hood of the truck and, though there was no remedy for the rust, he continued to wash it and keep up its shabby appearance.  Brenda was usually found somewhere near him, playing cards or reading one of the books she found in the house.  She’d started growing a pile and would sometimes get through up to two a day. She’d been spending more and more time secluded as the days wore on. 

            Josh was helping Bernard get moving again, of course.  The bullet to Bernard’s side did its damage, enough that Bernard was still struggling, but somehow, due to a stroke of luck that Thomas was sure they’d never see, the bullet managed to miss his vital organs.  Harriet was able to stop any damaging blood loss, but his movements were quickly limited to anything above his chest.  He was optimistic, kept a positive vibe about him, but Thomas could see the worry in his eyes.  They would bring him outside to the circle when they ate to keep him around the group, but there was always a shadow present with him. 

            Harriet had started joining Vince on his walks across the Docks, leaning about the boats and their schedules.  They’d inspect different ones, learn to adjust sails and steer.  From a distance, it seemed to be just keen interest, but whenever they returned it was with a sweat-drenched determination to be able to leave here one day, once and for all.

            Newt fussed with the radio.  At any given time, a pair of walkies could be found next to him as well.  There was so much static in his trail that Thomas began to hear it even when the radios were off.  Where Newt was, so was a muffled station report.  On one particular day, he spent hours adjusting the lights on Joe’s truck while letting the radio play out from inside.  Always listening.  For answers, for hints, for ideas.  For a change.  At this point, he’d take any change.

            As for Thomas, he spent his days wrangling the remains of hope.  Telling the others when the skies looked clear for berg hunting, when Frypan was trying out a new recipe that was sure to be better than the last, when Harriet and Vince found a solid boat they might be able to use for themselves soon.  When there was nothing to report, he’d help Frypan with dishes, Jorge with the truck.  He’d search an abandoned house for another book to offer to Brenda.  He taught Bernard some of the therapy he’d done for his shoulder in hopes that he could do something similar for his legs, and when Bernard was too tired, Thomas helped Josh bring him inside.  They’d sit in silence often, Thomas never knowing what to say and Josh… Perhaps Josh decided it best not to say anything.  When he couldn’t help, when he didn’t have energy, Thomas simply watched the others. He watched the sea. He watched Newt. 

           

 

            There were clouds in the sky the day Thomas approached Newt and asked him to teach him how to shoot a gun.

            “Micah finally pushed you to the limit, yeah?” Newt laughed from where he knelt on the hood of Joe’s truck, arms stretched above his head to tighten a lamp into place.

            “Just want to make sure I’m ready,” Thomas answered.  “For when we hear something.”

            There was a slight stutter in Newt’s movements, but he was able to finish screwing in the lamp.  A blinding light shown out over him.  Newt slid off the hood of the truck and dusted his hands before finally looking across at Thomas.  “I can teach you.”

            Thomas nodded and waited in the pause.

            “Right now?” Newt asked with a tilt of his head.

            Thomas shrugged. “Unless you want to add a seventh light to the truck.”

            Newt eyed him for a minute before he cracked a smile.  “Keep it up, Tommy. These lights will come in handy one day, you’ll see.”

            “Sure,” Thomas smiled back. 

            When Frypan insisted he stay behind to put something together for later (“you’re gonna be starving when you get back from that and I’m not driving three miles out and three miles back and then cooking all night,”), it was Josh who spoke up from one of the caved in doorways.

            “I’ll drive you.”

            Thomas and Newt turned to him.

            “Bernard’s asleep, probably will be for a few more hours,” he pushed off the doorway.  “Besides, I want to learn too.”

            Thomas and Newt exchanged a glance.  “Alright,” Thomas nodded. “You’re in.  Meet us outside when you’re ready.”

            “I’m ready now.”

            “Then we’re going now,” Thomas said.

           

            They drove out to a clearing a little over an hour from the Docks.  Thomas helped Josh set up a long slab of wood they’d found and Newt took a moment to draw a few targets on it.  They propped it against a large rock and Newt drew a line in the dirt with a stick for them to stand behind.

            “Right,” he tossed the stick to the side.  “First thing’s first, don’t lock your arms and keep your shoulders relaxed.” He turned to Thomas.

            “I’m fine,” Thomas said.

            “Just keep your right shoulder back,” Newt angled him a bit.  “You’ll still get some backlash, but it won’t hurt as much. Maybe.”

            Thomas smiled. “Don’t worry about my shoulder. Just teach me how to do this right.”  
  
            “What do you think I’m doing?” Newt laughed. “Move your right leg back.”

            Thomas let Newt push his hip backward a bit before he finally shifted his leg.  Newt’s grip sent electricity through his blood and stayed even after Thomas moved backward.  “Is now really the time?” He murmured to him, smirk growing.

            Newt shifted his eyes to meet Thomas’ and then he stepped closer and nearly pressed himself against Thomas. Newt’s other arm slinked around Thomas’ waist and to his lower back and Thomas nearly buckled under the way Newt’s mouth curled up inches from his own.  He felt fingers trail just beneath the hem of his shirt before a pressure disappeared from his back and Newt stepped away from him and held up the handgun he’d pulled from Thomas’ waistband.

            Thomas worked his jaw before snatching the gun from Newt’s hand, earning a single cracked high-pitched laugh from him. “Go help Josh.”

           

            Thomas’ arms ached.  His shoulder hurt more than he wanted to admit and his legs felt like gelatin. 

            “One more round,” Josh said, lifting his rifle up and aiming at the blown out target.

            “Easy,” Newt said as he placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.  “Don’t wear yourself out.”

            “I’m not.”

            “Josh,” Thomas exhaled, stretching his arm back. “Newt’s right. We can come back tomo-“

            His words were cut off with a hushed noise from Newt as he spun and looked back at the truck.  The radio inside was still buzzing, the Rebel Force going on about recruitment and WCKD’s wall and trains and-

            “Did he just say something about a berg?” Josh asked.

            Thomas nodded and jogged over to the truck, the others on his heels.  He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the knob for the volume.

            _“sightings have been inconsistent, but often.  There are as many as three trains moving at any given time.  Cargo is passing through the Scorch like they want us to take it.  You can never go wrong with more ammunition: remember that.  Two heading West, one headed North.  And remember to move South if you want the revenge you deserve! WCKD can only hold the wall for so long.  With enough of us banded together, we can take it out.  We can take WCKD out. Remember: The WCKD will fall.”_

The broadcast went out with a bit of static before going silent completely.  A moment later it started up again

            “ _Fellow Scorchers, thank you for joining us again today!  It’s been a long time, but you’ve stuck with us, just as we have stuck with you.  We must stick together against WCKD.  Here’s what we know: Berg sightings have been inconsistent, but often.  There are as many as three…”_

“It’s repeating,” Newt said.

            “They’re seeing bergs again,” Thomas said as he lowered the volume.  “Often.”

            “And trains are moving,” Josh added.  “You think it’s our train?”

            “Might be,” Thomas said.  He reached forward and turned it back up.

            _“…est, one headed North. And remember to move South if…”_

“Two headed West and one going North,” Thomas said as he turned it back down. 

            “Which is ours?” Josh asked.

            “It’s gotta be one of the ones coming West.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            “The train with the bergs almost always crosses another train,” Thomas answered.

            “It didn’t say when the trains were moving out, but this was this morning’s broadcast,” Newt said.  “If the trains were headed West this morning, that means they’re likely still moving West.  Unless they’ve reached their destination.”  
  
            “We need to get back to camp,” Thomas said, pushing his way out of the truck.  “Get the board, we’ve gotta tell the others. If it’s moving this way, we need to move too.  We’re not missing it this time.” 

 

***

 

            Josh slammed on the brakes as they pulled into the small alley between their building and the one next to it.  Thomas scrambled out of the backseat and was running toward the others before Josh had even turned the truck off.

            “Get everyone now,” Thomas panted, gripping Brenda’s shoulder and looking between her and Jorge.  “We’ve got info.”

            Brenda and Jorge exchanged a single glance before they both jogged off, Brenda out toward the docks and Jorge into the building.

            Thomas turned to Josh.  “Do you… should we bring Bernard out?”

            Josh pushed the door to the truck closed.  He looked over at the building.  “It’s fine.  I’ll just go see if he’s awake.  I’d rather not keep moving him around.”

            Thomas pushed away the feeling of guilt in his chest at the sound in Josh’s voice.  He waited for him to disappear into the building before he turned to Newt.  “We’re not getting ahead of ourselves on this, right?”

            Newt shook his head.  “Bergs? Trains? Three a day? Something big is happening.  If we’re gonna find the train, it’s now.”

            Thomas nodded, thankful for the reassurance.  He helped Newt squeeze between the truck and the corner of the other building and then they walked over to the group that was slowly forming outside of the building.

            “What’s going on?” Harriet asked.

            “Reports came over the radio again, but this time they were different.” He went on to explain the multiple berg sightings and frequent train crossings.  When he finished, the group sat in silence for a minute, considering everything he’d said.

            “If they’re coming this way, then we would run right into it if we head East, no?” Brenda asked.

            “In theory,” Vince scratched his jaw.  “Depends how far north or south that tracks run too.”

            Thomas unfolded the third sheet of paper and laid it next to the map.  “These are the tracks we went over last week. If we overlay it with the map, it looks like we should be able to run into a crossing if we move southeast.”

            “This is a big risk.”

            Thomas let out an exasperated breath.  “Vince, you gotta trust me on this.  Or at least start believing in me.  We’re gonna have to take a risk at some point.” He looked out at the rest of them.  “Look, I’ve waited.  We didn’t make any rash decisions, we didn’t jump to conclusions.  We gathered whatever information we could, we pieced it together.  At some point, we’ve gotta do this.  We’ve gotta make a move.”  
  
            “I’m with Thomas,” Harriet said. She folded her arms. “I’m done waiting.  We’ve mapped this place.  We’ve got the boat schedules. If we do this right, we can be headed to the Safe Haven in three days’ time.”

            Thomas looked across at her and nodded a small thank you and received one in return.

            Vince took a breath and looked down at the map, the tracks, and the train list again.  “Well, if you’re doing this – which I can see now that you are – I’m in.”

            Thomas nodded. “Okay, great.” He folded up the papers and slipped them into his back pocket again.  “Now we just need to come up with a plan.”  


 

 

            “I’ve got nothing,” Brenda said for the third time as she poked at the fire with a long stick.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  They’d plotted well into the sunset, stopped to eat and reenergize, and plotted some more.  Now, Thomas leaned back on his elbows on the ground where he’d moved.  He looked up at the night sky.  The stars seemed to form tracks in his mind.  This was it: he was going insane.

            He pushed himself up again and leaned forward.  “We just need a way to get them off the train.”

            “What if we don’t have to get them off?” Josh asked as he joined them.  “I just filled Bernard in on everything.  We’ve been sitting trying to think of some ideas and, I mean it seems crazy, but what if we steal the train?”  
  
            Thomas blinked.

            “You want to steal the train,” Harriet clarified.

            “Listen, I said it might seem crazy,” Josh said.  “But it’s an option.”

            “The hell kind of option?” Frypan asked.

            “You want to steal an entire train from WCKD?” Brenda asked.  “Do you even know how to drive a train?”  
  
            Josh shrugged. “I imagine it can’t be too hard.  It mostly just stays on the rails, doesn’t it?”

            “Well there’s your first problem,” Thomas sighed.  “Where do the tracks go? It’s not like we can just redirect them here.”

            “Our luck it’d lead straight to WCKD’s headquarters,” Harriet snorted.

            Josh took a seat on the ground and leaned back against one of the rocks.  “Okay, well at least I offered something.  What’ve you been coming up with out here?”

            The others seemed to become interested in loose threads and the flames and stars.

            “We have to get them off the train,” Thomas repeated.  “Which means we need the train to stop somehow.”

            “That train doesn’t stop,” Harriet shook her head.  “We’ve been over this.”

            “It’s gotta stop at some point, doesn’t it?”

            “Yeah,” Brenda nodded.  “At WCKD’s headquarters or wherever they’re going.”

            “So, we need to make it stop before it gets there,” Thomas said.

            “And how do you suppose we do that?” Brenda asked.  “Are you gonna lie down on the tracks and hope they stop for you while we all run over, sneak fifty kids off the train and run off into the Scorch and leave you to figure your own way out?”

            Thomas shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

            “ _That wasn’t a real suggestion, Thomas_ ,” Brenda nearly shouted.

            “You come up with anything, over there?” Harriet asked suddenly.

            Thomas followed her gaze to the rock next to him where Newt sat watching the stars, mouth parted just slightly so that when he answered, his mouth barely even moved.  “No.”

            Thomas furrowed a brow at him.

            “You know,” Vince chimed in.  “I think you might’ve been onto something about stopping the train.”

            Thomas turned away from Newt to look at Vince.  “You have an idea to make it stop?”

            “Well, not exactly.”  He pushed the hair from his face, eyes moving across something only he could see.  “How many cars did you say the train had?”

            Thomas looked to the others.  “Maybe ten?”

            “Probably,” Harriet nodded. “Sounds right.”

            “Do you think Celina might remember which train car that kid was pulled out of? Where they were all kept?”

            Thomas shrugged.  “It’s a possibility.”

            “We should find that out,” Vince nodded.  “We might be able to work with that.”

            “I can run over and ask them,” Frypan offered.  “I told them I’d bring them some food before anyway.”  He stood and made his way back toward the building.

            Thomas turned to Vince.  “What does their train car have to do with it?”

            Vince shrugged.  “Well, I’m thinking about when you all stole the supplies from them.  The guards would walk down the train and check each car and then head back to the front, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            “If they do the same with the train with the kids, at least the guards are a bit out of the way.”

            “But the train doesn’t stop,” Thomas shook his head.

            “Unless we make it,” Vince answered.

            “How do you wanna make a train that’s going a million miles an hour stop?” Brenda asked as she shook her head.  “There’s no way we’d be able to without being caught.”  
  
            “Especially with the berg following,” Josh added.  “If that train stops, you can bet your ass that berg is gonna stop right next to it to figure out why.”

            “So, we distract the berg,” Thomas said.  He looked up at the others.  “If we can get the berg out of the way, we might be able to figure something out with the train.”

            “How are you gonna distract a berg?” Josh asked.

            “One of the trucks,” Thomas shrugged.  “Hear me out.  We stage a rescue with one of the trucks.  The berg sees us. Chases us off, similar to how they did when we were stealing from that other train.  That berg followed us for at least ten minutes, maybe even twenty?”

            “That’s not nearly enough time for any plan,” Brenda laughed.  “There’s fifty people on that train.  You wanna get them all out – secretly, might I add – and then what are you gonna do with them? Stick them all in the two trucks we have?”

            “There are more cars around here,” Thomas shrugged.

            “We can’t show up with a fleet of trucks,” Vince shook his head.  “WCKD will notice a bunch of trucks in the desert.  There can only be one.  Maximum two.  But if you have two, you need them far enough apart where the berg will only focus on one of them.”

            “Okay,” Harriet spoke up.  “Say we’re able to get a truck out there and distract the berg for ten minutes or however long.  What’s your plan with everyone on the train?”

            “Even if we _did_ bring all the trucks, we wouldn’t be able to take them all,” Josh added.  “And even if we _did_ manage to stuff them all into glove compartments and trunks and shit, then how are we gonna outrun a berg? Especially with the extra weight in the trucks.”

            “Okay, Josh, we get it,” Thomas said, holding back a roll of his eyes.  “No trucks. Not an option. We’ll move onto the next one.”

            “You might not be able to use a truck,” Jorge spoke up, “but you could use a berg.”

            Thomas turned to him, nearly forgetting he was there.  “A berg to get them off the train?”

            “They’d fit,” Jorge reasoned.

            “Whoa, hold on,” Vince held up a hand.  “You want to not only distract the berg, but now you wanna steal one?”

            “I vote a no on that,” Harriet said.

            “Why not?” Brenda asked. “They’ve probably only got two or three guards on there anyway.”

            “That’s insane,” Thomas said.

            “How would you even get the berg to land in order to steal it?” Vince asked.  “You can’t just hijack it out of the sky.”

            “How do you even fly a berg?” Josh asked the ground, eyes wide.

            “It doesn’t matter,” Harriet said, “because we can’t steal one.”

            “I’ve flown one before,” Jorge said.  “In fact, I’ve flown multiple.”

            “You’ve flown multiple bergs?” Harriet asked.

            Jorge cleared his throat.  “I have.  Many years ago.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “How did…? Why did you…?”

            “That’s not important right now,” Jorge said, softly.  “What’s important is that I can pilot one of those.”

            “Okay, how are you even going to get on there?” Brenda asked.

            “Leave that plan to me,” Jorge nodded.  “I have a couple ideas that can get the berg away from the train far enough that they can’t help your guards,” he smiled, “and your guards can’t help them.”

            “How many of us would you need?” Thomas asked.

            Jorge shrugged.  “No more than three or four.”

            Thomas looked around.  “That’s half the group.”

            “What about Micah?” Josh asked.

            “Are you kidding me?” Harriet asked.

            “Listen, I don’t like him either, but it’s an extra body.  Besides, maybe having a Crank on our side wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

            “Isaac and Rupert might do it,” Brenda said.  “Rebecca might have left, but they’re still here.”

            “They did promise to help,” Thomas nodded.  “I can hold them to that, I think.”  
  
            “Hey everyone,” Frypan called over as he returned, Celina and Joel behind him.  “You wanted to know about the trains?” He gestured to them.

            “Frypan said you were asking how many train cars there were?” Celina asked.

            Vince nodded.

            “I’d say it was close to fifteen,” Celina answered.  “The car where the fight broke out was sort of near the end, but not completely there, I don’t think.”  She turned to Joel and, as she spoke, she gave a few signals with her hands.  “Which train car did the fight break out on?”

            Joel tilted his head as he tried to remember.  He shook his head and looked apologetically at Celina as he signaled an answer to her.  He stopped midway, tilted his head in thought, and then signaled something different.

            Celina seemed to find whatever it was interesting enough to warrant a raised brow before she turned back to the group.  “Whatever car the fight broke out in was next to a car that was carrying what looked like tubes? Or pipes of some sort?”

            “Pipes?” Vince repeated.

            “Big metal ones,” Celina spoke as Joel signaled.

            “Alright, so they’re in the car behind? In front of?” Brenda asked.

            A pause as Celina watched Joel before she answered.  “Behind.”

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded. “This is assuming they’re placed in the same car every time.”

            “Let’s go with yes,” Harriet said.  “We can figure out specifics as we get them.  For now, we still need an idea of how to even get them off the train.”

            “Hang on,” Josh said.  “What kind of tubes?”

            “Does it matter?” Harriet asked.

            “It very well might,” Jorge nodded, meeting Josh’s eyes.

            “WCKD isn’t only transporting people in those cars,” Josh reasoned.  “They’ve probably got plenty of cargo on there, too.  My question is, what cargo would be so valuable that they need to put it on the same train as the people that a berg is protecting?”

            “What does that matter?”

            “Could be something dangerous,” Jorge said.

            Thomas watched him for a minute, considering.  The idea of having anything dangerous around Minho was already making his blood boil.  “Let’s just not think about that right now.  Let’s focus on getting them off the train.”

            Josh shuffled uncomfortably, but nodded.

            “Alright,” Harriet clapped her hands together.  “Let’s say we’re able to steal the berg.  There’s no way we’d be able to get everyone out and onto the berg without WCKD finding out.”

            Frypan took a seat in the circle and gestured for Celina and Joel to join.  He turned to Thomas.  “What if we act as WCKD guards? Say there was an emergency and we have to get them all on the berg and over to headquarters immediately?”

            “Posing as a WCKD guard?” Thomas asked.  “Pretty risky, don’t you think?”

            “This is already a big enough risk,” Harriet shook her head.  “Let’s try to avoid unnecessary ones.”

            Frypan shrugged.  “What other ideas do we have?”

            “We’ll never be able to move them fast enough,” Josh said.  “We’d have no time before those guards came out and started shooting.”

            “He’s got a point,” Vince said as he leaned forward.  “They’d end up killing half those kids instantly with open fire.  You saw them up at the Right Arm.  We’re not losing anyone else like that.”

            “Wait a second,” Thomas said.  “When we were stealing from the trains, the guards were in the front.”

            “That doesn’t mean anything,” Harriet said.  “They’d still reach us before we got ten people out.”  
  
            “Maybe,” Thomas said.  “Unless we can figure out a way to keep them at the front.”

            “Or a way to put space between us and them,” Vince said.  “I had a thought, and this goes back to what train car they’re on, but what if we separate the train cars?”

            “Separate them?” Brenda asked.

            “Cut the train in half.  Right where it separates guards from no guards.”

            “How in the hell would you do that?” Frypan asked.

            “There’s still the fact that it’s going to take far too much time to move everyone onto the berg,” Harriet sighed.  “This is on top of having to make sure the berg shows up at the same time that we separate the cars.  Which means we’re playing on Jorge’s time,” she pointed at him.  “And if we separate the cars there’s no way in hell we’d stand a chance of pretending we’re part of WCKD and loading them onto the berg.”

            “Okay, Harriet,” Josh laughed.  “It’d be nice if you could be a little positive.”

            “I’m _positive_ that if we don’t do this right, we’re losing yet another opportunity to get them back.  I don’t know about you, but hearing that I was actually physically close to Sonya and Aris for the first time in nearly half a year kind of knocked the breath out of me a bit.  You wanna sit and talk about wild plans that have a thirty/seventy chance of working? Be my guest. I’m looking for something to actually get her back for good.”

            A heavy silence weighed down on the group as they all dropped their gazes.  Thomas shifted in his seat.

            “We’re all stressing about this,” Newt said suddenly.  Thomas looked up and caught his gaze before Newt turned to face Harriet and continued.  “Being realistic about this is the best choice we have.  If we’re doing this, we only have one shot and we need to make it count.  Once we pull this off, if we mess it up WCKD will have their radar on us immediately.  There’ll be no more plotting in quiet corners of the Scorch.  Harriet’s right, we need a plan that has no holes that will work.  I’m not done,” he held up a hand to Josh, who swallowed whatever he was going to say and gestured for Newt to continue.  “Josh also has a point,” he said as he shifted his gaze back to Harriet.  “If we’re going to come up with any plan that has a chance of working, we’re going to need one hundred percent backing and support from all of us.  We all need to be in completely or not at all.” He looked around to the entire group then.  “If you’re having doubts, if you’re not sure you can help, then back out now.  Get on one of those boats and head to the Safe Haven,” he pointed behind him and looked at each one of them individually.  “Because there’s no room for doubt.  And there is certainly no more time for it.”  He dropped his hand back to his leg and sat up a bit more.  “That being said, I’m sure Thomas is willing to hear any plan you can come up with.”  He punctuated this by meeting Thomas’ gaze.

            “Thank you,” Thomas murmured softly.  He turned to the group.  “Before we start, is anyone backing out of this?”  He looked around the group, but no one moved.  His chest loosened with relief.  “Frypan?”

            Fry looked up at him with raised brows.

            “Can you grab Micah and find Isaac and Rupert?  We might as well find out how many people we have on board.”  
  
            “Sure,” Frypan nodded before heading off.

            Celina shifted.  “Are you including us in this plan?”

            “Not if you don’t want to be.”

            Celina and Joel exchanged a glance.  There were a few signaled phrases between the two before Celina ran a hand through her hair and looked back at Thomas.  “Can we hear what the final plan is first and then make our decision?”

            Thomas wanted to tell them no, that they would be building the plan around however many people they had, but he couldn’t afford to turn anyone away, even if it meant the possibility of losing them later.  “Of course.”

            “Okay,” Celina said in a small voice.  “Thank you.”

            “Thank you,” he said to the two of them.  “We appreciate all the help you’ve been already.”

            Celina shrugged.  “We were supposed to be on those trains.  I’m a bit skeptical of getting anywhere close to them now that I know they’re putting the captured immunes on there, but I can’t deny that we want some revenge too.”

            Thomas tilted his head.  “Were you both in mazes?”

            Celina nodded. “Same one. We’re all we have left.”

            “We’ll get the rest of them back,” Thomas nodded.

            Celina’s smile faltered before she spoke.  “There’s no one left to get back.”

            Thomas felt a sting through his bones.  Was their blood on his hands, too?  Did he create their Maze?  A graze of fingers against his shoulder brought him back to the circle and out of his head. 

            “I hear Thomas wants me,” Micah’s voice rang louder than necessary.

            “Sit down,” Harriet answered.

            “Fiesty,” Micah snuck in before he took Frypan’s previous seat.

            “Where are the others?” Thomas asked.

            “I don’t know,” Micah gestured vaguely behind him as he spoke.  “Your boy is off finding them.  Maybe you can give Guard Dog here a piece of their clothing and he can sniff them out.”  

            “Micah cut the shit,” Thomas sighed as a tremor of anger shot through him.  “If you’re in this with us then shut the hell up and do whatever I say.”

            Micah grinned. “Yes, sir.”

            Thomas chanced a glance up at Newt, but Newt was back to watching the stars. Or, perhaps he was thinking of ways to get Micah caught by WCKD.  Thomas smirked to himself.  Maybe they could use Micah as bait.

            When Isaac and Rupert arrived with Frypan and the three of them took seats around the fire, Thomas explained the situation to them.  “If you don’t want any part of this, that’s fine.  But, if you help us get them back, you’re on our boat to the Safe Haven.”  
  
            “That’s fine,” Rupert shrugged. “I hate WCKD as much as the next person, but I don’t know how much help we’ll be.  I’ve never even shot a gun before.”

            “I have,” Isaac shrugged, “but my aim’s not the best.”

            “It’s fine,” Thomas nodded.  “We’ll take whatever help we can get.”

            Micah raised a hand.

            Thomas clenched his jaw.  “What, Micah?”

            Micah smiled.  “I can shoot a gun.”

            “We’re not giving you a weapon,” Newt said to the sky.

            Micah’s smile fell.  “Then what do you want me to do?”

            “I’m sure we’ll find a use for you,” Thomas said.  “For now, just stay quiet.”  When it seemed like Micah was quiet for good, Thomas looked around at the others.  “Okay,” he nodded. “Where’d we leave off?”

            Everyone began to toss ideas around, some better than others, some far worse than others.  One particular suggestion involved tearing up the tracks so the train would have to stop, and then while WCKD was busy fixing that, they would get the kids off the train and onto the parked berg two by two without the guards knowing.

            That was shot down rather quickly.

            The ideas continued well into the night, but when the first yawn came, Frypan was up to gather more food for energy.  When the fire began to dim, Josh and Jorge were fueling it right back up. 

            “The thing that’s hurting us here is the amount of people on that train,” Harriet explained again.  “There’s no way for us to get all of them off the train that quickly.”

            Thomas suddenly felt something click in his head while Vince began to go through numbers again.  “What if we don’t have to get them off the train?”

            Vince and Harriet stopped their conversation as they turned to Thomas.

            “What do you mean?” Brenda finally asked.

            “If we’re stealing a berg, why can’t we steal a train?”

            “We went over this,” Brenda answered. “There’s no way we can steal an entire train and redirect it here.”

            “WCKD probably has a tracker on the train,” Harriet added.  “There would be another berg on our tails in minutes.”

            “I’m not talking about the whole train,” Thomas said.  “I’m talking about one car.”

            The others continued to look at him, doubt and confusion rippling expressions.

            Finally, Josh spoke up.  “How in the absolute fuck?”

            The others exploded in a multitude of questions until Thomas finally stood up and quieted them down.  “Just listen, alright?  All we’d have to do is separate it from the rest of the train, kind of like Vince was saying earlier.”

            “Yeah, I meant splitting the train in half and getting them out,” Vince said. “I didn’t mean take the entire second half.”  
  
            “We don’t need to.  We just need that train car.”

            Brenda sighed.  “This is almost as bad as Harriet’s plan to fake a call to headquarters for a second berg.”

            “Hey!” Harriet protested.  “We could’ve moved double the number of immunes that way.”

            “And had double the guards,” Brenda reminded her.

            “Forget the other berg,” Thomas spoke over them.  “Would you listen to me?”

            “Thomas, what you’re saying is insane,” Vince said.

            “Is it?” Thomas asked.

            “Yes,” Newt answered.

            Thomas looked down at him. “Now you wanna participate?”

            Newt furrowed his brow at him.

            “Thomas, what the hell are you gonna do with an entire train car?” Josh asked.

            Thomas turned to Jorge.  “We’ll have a berg at that point.”

            Harriet snorted. “You wanna fly an entire train car to the Safe Haven?”

            “If we have to.”

            “Can a berg even carry that weight?” Frypan asked as he handed out another round of dinner.

            “The train cars were, what?” Thomas turned to Newt. “How much did you say they weighed?”

            “Ninety…no wait,” Newt tilted his head. “It was…”

            Thomas waited in the silence while Newt shifted in his seat.

            “It… Ninety-seven…thousand?”

            “Ninety-seven thousand?” Thomas clarified.

            “Wait,” Newt shook his head.  “There wasn’t a nine.”

            “Hmm,” Micah mused with a smile on his face that Thomas wanted nothing more than to punch off.  “Interesting. Looks like yo-“

            “Two-hundred and fifteen thousand five hundred and five,” Newt said.  He turned to Micah. “What were you going on about?”

            “Great,” Thomas said before Micah could quip back.  “Two hundred and…whatever…thousand. And five." He turned to Jorge. "Can a berg carry that?”

            “They used to use bergs to move plenty of cargo for farther distances much quicker in cases of emergencies,” Jorge said.  “But that number you said,” he pointed to Newt, “that doesn’t sound like a typical train weight.”

            “It was the number above it.”

            “That’s the max it can carry,” Jorge explained.  “Bergs can carry up to one-hundred and ninety thousand.”

            Thomas crouched back down, a bit deflated now.  “That can’t work then.”

            “Well, I didn’t say that,” Jorge said.  “As long as the train isn’t carrying its max weight, we might be okay.”

            “How would we know how much it’s carrying?” Thomas asked.

            “How many immunes do you think are in the car?” Harriet asked.  “Fifty?”

            “Probably,” Thomas said.  “That’s about what they took from us, no?”

            “They would have had more than that,” Celina said.  “When we saw the fight, there was a crowd just at the doorway with plenty of people behind.”

            “You think maybe a hundred?” Thomas asked. “It can’t be more than that.”

            “It very well could be,” Jorge said.  “Those train cars are long. And we have no idea if they have those kids standing packed like sardines or sitting comfortably apart from each other.”

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “Listen, do we think a berg can carry it or not?”

            “Patience, Thomas,” Vince said.  “There’s a lot of math that’s gotta go into this.”

            “Well the train car can’t weigh much more than two-hundred thousand, right?” Brenda asked Newt.

            “Would we be able to make that work? It’s close enough,” Josh shrugged.

            “Do the bergs have something to even carry the train car with?” Isaac asked.

            “They’re meant to move equipment,” Jorge nodded.  “They’ll have cords, but I don’t know that a single cord would be able to pick that car up with all the weight coming from the center.”

            “What if we dispersed it,” Harriet said.  “When I was in my Maze, we killed ones of the Shades and we wanted to take it back to Home Base.  Those things are heavy.  We had to tie ropes to a bunch of different corners of it and its limbs and all pull from there.”

            “That could certainly help,” Jorge nodded.

            “How long would the rope have to be?” Thomas asked.

            “I think it’s more of a concern of how strong it would have to be,” Jorge said.

            “What about your paracord?” Frypan asked.  “Would that work?”

            Thomas raised a brow.  “That’s a possibility.”

            “I think those only hold up to one thousand pounds, no?” Rupert asked.  “I used to deal with it a lot.”

            “That clearly won’t work,” Isaac said.

            “Unless we disperse it,” Harriet said.  “If those cords can carry up to one thousand pounds each-“

            “-we’d need a thousand ropes,” Vince finished. “Not gonna happen. What we need is steel ropes.”

            Thomas watched the exchange Harriet and Vince exchanged.

            “Steel ropes,” Harriet repeated.

            “I’m not following,” Brenda said.

            “The boats,” Harriet answered.  “We can use the ropes from the boats.  They anchor them to the docks.  If they can hold those boats in place, they sure as hell can lift a container.”

            “And if we tie the ropes off at each corner of the container and have them meet in the center to hook them to the berg’s rope, it would disperse the weight,” Vince explained.

            “Are we seriously figuring out how to lift a train car with a berg and some rope?” Josh asked.

            A chorus of “yes”es answered him.

            “Okay, just checking.”

            “Positivity, Josh,” Harriet jested.

            “Now it’s just a matter of separating the train car from the train itself,” Vince said.

            “We cut it in half,” Thomas answered.  “Like you said.”  
  
            “I know I said it.  Doesn’t mean I know how we’re gonna do it.”

            “A C-4 would do the trick,” Jorge offered.

            “A what now?” Thomas turned to him.

            “That’s what you used in the hideout, isn’t it?” Brenda asked.

            “The record player?” Thomas asked.

            “The very same one,” Jorge nodded.

            “Where the hell are we gonna get our hands on that?” Frypan asked.

            Jorge scratched his jaw.  “I might know a place.” 

            Thomas followed his eyeline to Bertha.  “You keep it in the truck?”

            “Never know when you’re gonna need a good explosive,” Jorge shrugged.

            “Couldn’t agree more,” Josh laughed.

            “Alright hang on,” Vince spoke over everyone.  “Say this all works so far.  One of us plants the C-4, the train gets separated, we’re able to steal a berg and fly it over and hook up the train car to it.  Then what?”

            “Then we fly to the Safe Haven,” Thomas shrugged.

            There was a beat of silence.

            “Maybe we should go back to destroying the train tracks,” Brenda sighed.

            “No,” Thomas shook his head. “Listen, this can work.  WCKD would never expect us to pull something off like this.”

            “That’s because no one can, Thomas,” Vince said.

            “We can,” Thomas nodded. “Hear me out.” Thomas took a deep breath and looked around the circle.

 

***

 

            It was in the hours just before dawn that the group finally decided to attempt a few hours of sleep.  Thomas dragged himself to the mattress and nearly fell over on it.  His brain was exhausted, his body was exhausted.  The next day came too soon and when Frypan was shaking him awake, it took him nearly an hour to finally open his eyes. 

            “Alright there, Tommy?” Newt asked over a mouthful of breakfast.  “Gotta get moving if you want to finalize this insane plan of yours.”

            “Did you even sleep?” Thomas asked, pulling himself up.

            “’Course I did. I don’t get to look like this otherwise. Come on, breakfast is hot.”

            Thomas grunted a response.

            When Thomas finally felt fully awake, his day flew by.  The group had split off on their own to gather supplies, information and whatever else they could.  Jorge, Josh and Vince spent time with the trucks and going over how to properly fix whatever that white explosive stuff was around the connector of the train.  Thomas didn’t stay too close to them.

            Frypan, Celina, Joel and Harriet went over the tracks and tunnels in the desert.  Following which routes crossed and worked on finding a good stopping point for the plan to begin.  There was plenty of discussion of underground tunnels from the last Scorch town.  Thomas overheard some talk regarding the trap door they hid beneath a few times.  Meanwhile, Brenda spent time with Isaac teaching him the way around a shotgun, and Newt and Rupert were off to find ropes and whatever else they thought would be helpful. 

            Thomas made his rounds, but mostly he was on his own.  There were scattered papers all around with crossed out plans, stick figures drawn on maps with lines crisscrossing every which way.  Small X’s and O’s to mark where everyone would be positioned.  When he finally found a plan he liked, the sun had nearly set.  He reread the list and looked up across the way.  His eyes immediately found Newt.

            This was for the best.  He’d understand.

 

 

 

            The way Newt stormed into the building told Thomas that he did not, in fact, understand.

           

            An hour later, the rest of the group dispersed, the plan finalized.  Thomas’ nerves were ablaze, but the knot in his chest held tight.  He stepped through the crumbled doorway into the room he’d been sharing with Newt. He looked up to find Newt leaning against the far wall staring out of the window where a cool, briny breeze drifted in.

            Thomas stood just inside of the doorway and leaned against the wall next to it.  “This is the best that I could come up with.”

            “Sure, Tommy.”

            “What would you have us do instead?”

            “I already told you,” Newt said as he finally looked across the room at Thomas.  “I should be with you.”

            Thomas swallowed.  “I’m not trying to sideline you.”

            “No.  You just want me to wait in a desert while you jump from a car onto a moving train and then run across that train and then stand around while an explosive goes off.”

            Thomas focused on stilling his leg.  “You’re making it seem worse than it is.”

            “Am I?” Newt asked.  “Then tell me what it really is.”

            “Vince is gonna be with me.  I need someone who can drive the truck close enough to the train. More than two people will get us caught.”

            Newt only watched him a second longer before he turned back to the window.

            Thomas took a breath.  He knew Newt would be upset over having to wait hidden behind a rock, but this was the only way it could work.  He’d never admit it, but Thomas wouldn’t have put Newt with him on that train regardless.  How could he expect Newt to run across a train car when he could barely walk across a four-foot-long log over a creek?  How would he be able to focus on his own balance when he was worried about Newt?  

            Thomas pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward him.  “If you fell off that train, Newt,” he shook his head.  “If something happened to you because of my plan, I’d never forgive myself.”

            Newt turned to look at him again.  “But you expect me to?”

            “I’d rather you be the one dealing with it than the one dead.”

            Newt flinched just slightly. 

            “I don’t care how selfish that is,” Thomas finished as he closed the gap.

            Newt worked his jaw.  “It _is_ bloody selfish.”  He crossed his arms against his chest but when he spoke, the words came out quieter. “But I get it.”

            Thomas felt something inside of him relax.

            “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Newt continued. “Or agree with it.”

            “That’s fair,” Thomas nodded.

            “Yeah, well,” Newt cricked his neck to the side, brow furrowed. “One of us has to be.”

            Whatever relaxed inside of Thomas tightened again at the sting.

            “Get some sleep, Thomas.  Make it a good one.”  Newt pushed off the wall and veered around Thomas toward the exit.

            “Newt, wait.” Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt’s wrist, but Newt pulled away.

            “I get to be mad about this,” Newt said as he turned back to him.  “You know that.  You understand that, right?  The amount of times that I’ve asked you not to go off on your own, not to sideline me, not to let…” he gestured between the two of them, “ _this_ get in the way.”

            Thomas flinched at the accusation, the knot in his chest tightening against his lungs.  “It’s not getting in the way of anything,” he barely choked out.

            A muscle feathered in Newt’s jaw.

            “Listen,” Thomas tried again.  “This will all be over by this time tomorrow.”

            “You’ve said that before.”

            “I mean it this time.  We know he’s there.  This is going to work.” He took a small step forward.  “ _All_ of this.”

            Newt watched him in silence.

            Thomas continued, his voice soft.  “All that time ago, you made me a Runner.” He held Newt’s gaze.  “Why’d you do it?”

            Newt shifted. “You wanted to be.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “No, you didn’t do it for me.  You barely knew me.  Why’d you do it?”

            Newt’s face shifted as he exhaled, conceded.  “You did something no one else was willing to do.” 

            Thomas stayed silent, urging him to continue.

            “You took a chance.”  
  
            “And you took a chance on me,” Thomas said. “Didn’t I prove myself to you?” When Newt didn’t respond, Thomas continued.  “Trust me like you did then.”

            “I _do_ trust you, Tommy,” Newt sighed.  His head tilted back and then dropped it forward.  “I just can’t wait for this to be over.”

            Thomas released a breath.  “It will be.  I mean it this time.”

            Newt nodded.

            “Are you still angry with me?”

            Newt’s eyes shifted along the floor before finally meeting Thomas’.  “I haven’t decided yet.  Ask me tomorrow.”

            Thomas risked a small laugh.  “I can deal with that.”

            Newt watched Thomas for another moment before he turned and walked across the room.  He grabbed his backpack.

            “Where are you going?”

            “Night Watch.”

            “What? We haven’t had a Night Watch since we’ve been here.”

            “Then I’ll finish packing the containers in the trucks.  Not like I’ll be getting sleep tonight anyway.  At least this way Josh can spend some time with Bernard.”

            Thomas felt yet another sting as Newt grabbed Joe's jacket at the doorway.

            “Get some sleep Tommy.”

            He watched Newt leave the room, disappearing behind the crumbled wall.

 

            Twenty-four hours.

            Everything would be back to normal in twenty-four hours.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW.
> 
> I have been looking forward to this chapter for a while. I loved exploring different options for their plans. I remember watching the train heist and thinking "how in the hell did that conversation go when they came up with that plan?" 
> 
> Well, anyway, have my rendition of it hahhaa
> 
> I don't have too many notes except just to say that this is it! The gap is just about closed! 
> 
> I hope a lot of the earlier chapters have started to make sense now, as far as why I included certain incidents (the trap door from the Scorch town, Newt and Thomas crossing a creek, etc.) and hopefully it all is coming together as good as it is in my head. 
> 
> In the next few chapters, some more bits and pieces from the story will be cropping up. 
> 
> As always, a giant giant thank you to EVERYONE who has followed this story whether it was from chapter 1 or chapter 30. You are all so so wonderful and your support is incredibly motivating.
> 
> Hope you are all enjoying this so far.
> 
> Time is ticking...
> 
>  
> 
> *Oh, one note. I know paracord can only actually carry 550lbs. But. The Future(tm). So. I don't know, maybe technology advanced. Just go with it. 
> 
> **A big big thank you to Bridge for helping me with so much of the train studies. Your google search history of "c-4 explosives" and "compressed hydrogen" and "train markings" must be outstanding. I hope one day, future scientists find it and that's all they're left with of the world. Also, I am probably going to frame your diagrams of train containers.


	33. On Risks and Rescues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Things Don't Always Go as Planned

 

            It had only been about four restless hours before Thomas was gently shaken awake by Frypan.

            “Hm?” Thomas rolled onto his back on the mattress.  “Shit, already?”

            Frypan only nodded.

            Thomas wiped the sleep from his eyes and propped up on his elbows to look at Frypan crouched next to him.  Gray hoodie with his vest over it.  Small messenger bag with ammo strapped to it and a shotgun slung over his shoulder. The last things Thomas eyed were the gray gloves.

            Thomas exhaled.  “So, this is it, huh?”

            “Guess so,” Frypan offered a small smile.

            Thomas pushed himself up to stand, stepped into his boots and laced them up, a single yawn escaping.

            “You’re gonna be okay to do this?” Frypan asked.

            “I’m fine,” Thomas finished tying them and stood tall.  “You?”

            Frypan shrugged. “Just kind of figuring it out as I go, to be honest.  Celina says she has a truck to take care of the tunnel trap.”

            “You know where it is?” Thomas asked. “The exact spot?”

            Frypan nodded. 

            “Alright, then let’s get you out there.”

 

            The group was circled around a rusted truck and another much larger truck with a giant extension from the front that ended with a large shovel-like bucket on the edge.  Thomas eyed it.  “That’s gonna work?”

            “Assuming the tunnels are manmade,” Celina shrugged, barely visible in the darkness.  “Heather said she was able to dig up pretty much anything with it.”

            “How do you even drive this thing?” Frypan asked.

            “I can show you when we’re out there,” Celina offered.  “It’s not so hard. Just a few different controls.”

            Thomas’ gaze dropped to a spot a bit further past the giant truck.  Newt stood off in the distance talking with Rupert and gesturing with his hands.  Thomas wondered if he’d be able to steal Newt away for a few minutes in the fray of the dawn.  He needed to know Newt was okay.

            “We’d better get moving,” Harriet said as she adjusted her gloves.  Thomas noted the way she’d cut the fingers off of them.  She looked up at him.  “Better control on the gun.”

            Thomas’ nerves suddenly began to ricochet inside of him.

            This was it.  All or nothing.

            “Let’s get you guys moving,” Vince agreed.  “Isaac and Micah are in the truck already.  Frypan said he’ll drive that one over.”

            Thomas turned to Frypan. 

            “Alright, Thomas” Frypan held up a hand.  “See you out there?”  
  
            Thomas swallowed.  He stepped forward and pulled Frypan in, wrapping his arms around him.  “Stay safe, man.”  
  
            “You too,” Frypan answered.

            When Thomas stepped back, he felt the presence next to him before he saw Newt.

            “Newt,” Frypan nodded before ducking in for a hug. 

            Thomas dropped his gaze to the floor, tried not to listen to the muffled words passed between them.  He turned to Harriet instead.  “You’re staying safe too, yeah?”

            “Always,” she adjusted the pack on her shoulder.  “Can you believe it’s almost over?”

            Thomas allowed a smile at her optimism.  “I can.”

            “Keep your shoulder back when you shoot.”

            Thomas’ smile widened.  “I’ll have the holster.”

            “That does nothing for your shoulder, you know, that right?”  
  
            Thomas shrugged and then rotated his arm.  “You’re willing to patch me up on the berg if you need to, right?”

            She eyed him once more before giving him a slight shove.  “Don’t give me too much work, okay?” She turned off toward Vince.

            There were a couple more exchanged goodbyes as Thomas focused on keeping his leg still.  His eyes landed on Frypan and Brenda.  At the distance, he couldn’t hear much, but he could see the way Brenda’s mouth twisted.  The way Frypan’s hands curled and uncurled at his sides.  He looked away at their hug.  He turned his attention to Newt instead.  “You doing okay?”

            Newt looked away from Frypan and Brenda and glanced at Thomas before nodding at the ground.  “Good.  Just gotta finish up with Rupert.  I’ll catch you in a bit, yeah?” He was already walking off before Thomas opened his mouth to reply.

            Within five minutes, the trucks were driving off.  Frypan leading the way with Isaac and Micah.  Celina, Joel and Harriet following in the larger truck packed with tarps, strings, and more guns than Thomas could count.

            His breath grew shallow.

           

            The next hour passed mostly in silence.  More trucks were packed, a few weapons passed from hand to hand.  Ammunition was stacked and dispersed.

            The rule for everyone was simple:  only take what you can carry in one bag and wear on your back.

            There would be no stopping back after the rescue.  It was a nonstop to the Safe Haven.

           

            Thomas found himself leaning against Jorge’s truck as Brenda tied a strapped pouch to her hip. 

            “What?” She asked.

            “I didn’t say anything,” Thomas answered.

            She sighed and looked up at him as she finished securing the strap.  “You want to, though.”

            Thomas kept his arms folded against his chest, as if they would keep the words trapped in there.  “Thank you,” he said, barely audible.

            Brenda rolled her eyes.  “We’re not doing this.”

            “You’re gonna have to deal with it,” Thomas said as he pushed himself off the truck to face her fully. 

            Brenda sighed heavily.  “At least make it quick, then? Jorge wants to get out there soon.”

            Thomas nodded.  “I know.”

            “Is there anything else?”

            Thomas shifted.  “Listen, I know you don’t have to do this, at all. But you’re still here.”

            “Oh my god.”

            “Let me talk,” Thomas said as he lifted his eyes to her.

            She folded her arms and squinted at him.  He wondered if it was skepticism or to keep her from showing any real feeling.  The sun was still hours from its rise. 

            “You and Jorge could have taken off from The Right Arm immediately.  But you came back.  You stayed.  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank whatever it is that’s making you stay with us.”

            Brenda shifted and dropped her gaze.

            “And I know you think this is partially in vain,” Thomas said quieter.  “I know you think there’s no one to rescue.”  
  
            She stilled.

            “But you’re still here doing this for us,” he continued.  “So, thank you.”

            “Remember when I told you about how I still see her?”

            Thomas furrowed his brow and shuffled through his limited memories.  He landed on the conversation after the Mountains.

            “I see him too now,” she said to the ground.

            Thomas didn’t speak.

            “I know it’s probably weird and, again, maybe it’s just some Flare symptom or whatever,” she shrugged, “but I see him.”

            “Matt,” Thomas murmured.

            “He had friends that were taken, and he isn’t even here to see them rescued.”  She paused and exhaled.  “Before he…” she tilted her head.  “Before he died, he told me he didn’t think there was anyone to be saved.  But he kept it up for Josh and Bernard.  He told me how important it was for them to believe in a reason to fight, especially that they were losing him.”  
  
            Thomas nodded, his chest tightening.

            “I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “I guess that was sort of sweet.”  She turned and pulled her jacket from where it hung on the edge of the truck.  “Anyway, every time I see him, hear his voice? It’s a reminder that he – that all of you – are fighting for a lot more than just getting your friends back.” She pulled a red bandana from her pocket and tied it around her neck.  “So, I guess I will too.”

            Thomas stepped forward.  “You get why I’m thanking you, then?”

            “Do you?” she laughed.

            He furrowed his brow.

            “Don’t…” she squinted up at him again.  “Don’t worry about all of us, okay?  Just keep your focus on the train and what you have to do.  Don’t even look at the berg.  We’ve got that handled.”

            “9:15.”

            “9:15,” she repeated.

            Thomas reached into his back pocket and pulled out a brown watch.  “I snatched this up back in the Scorch on one of our supply runs,” he laughed, recalling the memory.  He pulled his thoughts back from Newt.  “We got the face repaired so it works now.”  He handed it over.  “Keep it on you.”

            Brenda looked up at him.  “Jorge has a watch.”  
  
            “Keep it on you,” Thomas repeated. 

            A moment passed before Brenda held out her wrist.

            Thomas reached forward and strapped it over the tied bandana on her jacket.  “It’s synched with mine down to the second,” he explained as he lifted his wrist quickly to show his own black one.  He finished buckling it, but left his hand on her wrist.

            “Thomas,” she said.  “I already see Matt every day. I don’t wanna see you too. You’re gonna be careful, right? You’re not gonna do anything stupid?”

            Thomas shrugged and chanced a smile. “I mean, the whole plan is pretty stupid. Does that count?”

            She shoved him with her free hand, but Thomas pulled her in with the other and wrapped his arms around her.  “9:15,” he murmured against her hair.

            “9:15.”

 

            Thomas watched the taillights of Bertha until he couldn’t anymore.

 

            He turned to watch the remains of the group packing the truck.  He wandered to the pile of supplies that had been discarded, deemed unnecessary.  He grabbed a pair of black gloves for himself, paused, and then grabbed another pair.  He stuffed them in his back pocket.

            He got back to the truck and eyed the back where all the bags were stuffed.  “We’re not gonna be able to take all of those,” he nodded to Vince.

            “Precautionary,” Vince explained. 

            Thomas knew what that meant.  If WCKD caught on earlier.  If they weren’t able to pull this off.  He turned to Rupert.  “You have the canisters?”  

            Rupert nodded. “They’re both packed already.”

            Thomas nodded.  He turned to look down the alleyway where Joe’s truck was parked.  He couldn’t see Newt in the shadows, but where else would he be?

            A sound in the doorway of the building pulled Thomas’ focus back. 

            Josh and a man Thomas didn’t recognize were shuffling outside, Bernard propped up between them.

            “Here we go,” Vince said under his breath before he moved forward, Rupert following.

            “I’ll be there in a minute,” Thomas said.

            Vince turned back to him.  “Be quick,” Vince nodded.  “They said 5:40am exactly.  Not a minute later.”

            Thomas nodded.  “I’ll be there.”

            He waited until Vince and Rupert started walking again before he turned and headed toward the alley.

           

            He didn’t see Newt in the front seat, but he leaned against the door.  After a moment, he reached over and knocked twice on the back window.

            A minute passed, and then he heard two knocks in response. 

            That was good enough for him.  He pushed off the truck and opened the back door.  Newt slid down the bench in silence, holster strapped to his leg.

            Thomas took the open seat and closed the door.

 

            The silence was almost as stifling as the heat. 

 

            “The boat leaves in a few minutes,” Thomas finally said.

            “Already?” Newt asked quietly.

            Thomas nodded.  “They’re walking over now.”

            The silence continued.

            “This is it, huh?” Newt asked.  “We’re finally at the end.”

            “And a beginning,” Thomas turned to him.  “The Safe Haven is a beginning, Newt.”  He reached over and placed his hand next to Newt’s on the seat bench.  “I think we all need a beginning, don’t you?”

            “Gotta get through the ending first.”

            “Do you want me to stay with you?”

            The silence that answered was unnerving.  Thomas sat up a bit straighter and pulled his hand back, but paused when Newt took it lightly in his.

            “I’ll be there in a minute,” Newt said, barely above a whisper.  “But for the record, the answer is yes.”

            Thomas looked at him, unsure.

            “I want you to stay with me.”

            Relief breathed itself to life inside of Thomas for the first time in days.  He let Newt pull him in and when they connected, it was as if the unease from the last few weeks had never happened.  It was comforting and familiar, mint and moss taking over every sense inside of Thomas.

            Feeling the absence of Newt’s mouth from his own brought reality back to him as they sat with foreheads pressed together, sun rising in the distance. 

            “I’ll stay,” Thomas whispered. 

            He felt Newt still, heard the swallow.  “Not now,” Newt answered.  “But one day.”  He pulled back from Thomas and faced forward again.

            Thomas considered Newt’s words but shoved his questions deep inside of him.  Now wasn’t the time.  They’d have time for this later.  “Are you coming to say goodbye?”

            “After this one,” Newt nodded.

            Thomas gave a small squeeze to Newt’s hand before he opened the door.  He let go and stepped out and closed the door behind him.

 

            Thomas stepped up to the docks and took a breath before continuing.  Bernard lifted a hand in greeting from his spot in the chair they’d put together for him, wheels attached for easier transport. 

            “Don’t let this one out of your sight, okay?” Bernard laughed up at him as he nodded to Josh.  “And keep him away from the C-4.  No telling what he’ll do if he gets his hands on it.”  Bernard smiled.

            Thomas flicked his gaze to Josh, but he’d turned away by then, eyes set on the glowing horizon.  Thomas turned back to Bernard.  “Don’t worry,” he attempted a laugh.  “I’m not even letting him use the blowtorch.”  
  
            “Good idea,” Bernard said before his smile faltered into something a bit more stoic.  “Bring them back, Thomas.”

            Thomas nodded.  “Of course.”

            “I know you will.  I’ve seen you pull us around for six months.  If anyone can get them all out of this, it’s you.”

            Thomas attempted a smile.  “Josh, Gunn and Amanda will be back to you in no time.”

            Bernard lifted a fist, blue eyes shining.  “See you soon.”

            “No getting sea sick, alright?” Thomas met his fist with his own. 

            “No promises,” Bernard smiled.

            Vince clapped Thomas on the shoulder as he turned away.  He looked up to see Newt walking up the docks, hands shoved in the pockets of Joe’s coat.  Thomas watched him until he passed and reached Bernard.  He turned, chest tightening, and followed Vince and Rupert to the end of the dock and waited.

            His leg bounced and he didn’t have strength to make it stop.  He focused his energy on breathing. 

            There was one more separation he’d have to go through.

 

            When the boat left the docks, Thomas and the others wrangled the ropes.  They were heavier than Thomas anticipated, but it didn’t help that his entire body was threatening to collapse under its own shaking.  His nerves reverberated against his bones. 

            The five of them piled the ropes into the back of the truck and then piled themselves inside. 

            “Final check,” Vince said over his shoulder.

            Thomas looked into the backseat where Newt, Rupert and Josh all sat in silence.  Nobody moved.  There was no use for a final check.  They had what they had.  If they left something behind, it was gone.

            Thomas lifted his eyes to look out of the back windshield.  Joe’s truck stood in the distance in the alleyway. 

            He turned and faced forward.  “Let’s go.”

            Vince shifted gears and they were off.

 

            The drive was two hours of silence before Vince rolled to a stop in the desert brush.  Thomas reached forward and pulled the map from the glove compartment. 

            “It’s a bit further,” Thomas said.  “Fry and the others should be about three more miles East.”

            “I thought we wouldn’t see them,” Rupert spoke up from the back.

            “We won’t,” Newt answered quietly.  “He’ll also be six miles North.”

            Thomas nearly strained himself to keep from turning to look at Newt. 

            “Oh,” Rupert said.

            Vince pressed the gas and silence took over again.

 

            “Keep an eye out for any large objects,” Thomas said as they reached their destination, driving parallel to the tracks.

            “Where are you separating the train?” Josh asked.

            “Wherever you guys will be,” Thomas answered as he looked over his shoulder in the back.  “We’ll make it work.”  His eyes slid to Newt, but Newt continued to look through the window.  The only movement was his hand curling around his backpack, knuckles white.

            “What about there?” Josh said suddenly.

            Thomas turned to look out his own window to where Josh pointed.  Large boulders stood in the distance, scattered along the desert.  “That’ll work.”

            Vince turned the wheel and parked between two boulders close enough to the tracks, but far enough where they wouldn’t be seen crouched behind them.  The five of them hopped from the truck and met at the back. 

            “Everyone knows their job?”  Thomas asked.

            Newt lifted one of the containers from the trunk and passed it to Rupert.  He swung his own over his shoulder in silence.   

            Josh pulled the shotgun over his chest and adjusted his hat.  He took another bag from Newt and swung it over his shoulder.  “Rupert,” he nodded to him.  “You’re with me.”

            Rupert turned to Thomas.  “Good luck,” he said.

            “You too.”

            Rupert walked to the farther rock, but Josh stayed behind another moment.  “You’re sure this is a good spot?”

            Thomas nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”

            Josh nodded.  “See you in an hour.”  He turned and followed Rupert. 

            Thomas watched them until they crouched behind the rock and out of sight.

            Vince clapped Newt on the shoulder.  “See you soon.” He turned to Thomas, nodded, and headed back to the truck.

            Thomas turned to Newt.  His chest tightened again, breath shallow.  He cleared his throat.  “Nice goggles,” he pointed to the pair hung around Newt’s neck over the bandana.

            Newt only looked at him.

            “Here,” Thomas said.  He reached into his back pocket and passed Newt a set of gloves.  “You promised you’d wear gloves next time,” he smiled.

            To his relief, Newt’s mouth twitched up.  He took the gloves and stuffed them into his back pocket. 

            “We’ve just gotta get through this, Newt,” Thomas said.  “And then it’s all over.”

            “I know,” Newt dropped his gaze.  “You should get moving.”

            Whatever relief snuck its way into Thomas evaporated under the sun.  He took a breath.  “We’re good, right?”

            Newt looked up at him.  “What do you mean?”  
  
            “I mean us.  You and me.”

            A muscle flickered in Newt’s jaw.  “I don’t think that’s a priority right now.”  
  
            “It is for me.”

            Newt dropped his gaze again and looked at the gloves.  “We’re fine, Thomas.”  He paused and worked his jaw over something.  He looked up again and continued.  “Just focus on getting Minho.”

            “And when we do?” Thomas asked.

            “Then we’ll worry about us.”

            Thomas’ stomach sank through him.  “Why would we have to worry about that?”

            Newt sighed.  “Tommy, just… can we talk about this later?”  
  
            “What’s going on?”

            “Thomas!” Vince called out.  “Gotta get moving!”

            Thomas held up a finger to Vince and nodded.  He turned back to Newt.  “Are you still mad about this plan?”  
  
            “Am I mad about hiding behind this shucking rock while you run across a moving train? Yes, I am.”  
  
            Thomas ran a hand down his face.  “It’s a little late to change it now.”  
  
            “I know,” Newt nodded. “Which is why it better work.”

            “You don’t think it will?” Thomas asked.

            “I didn’t say that,” Newt said.  “I’m just saying there’s a lot that we’re leaving up to chance here.”  
  
            “Why aren’t you behind me on this?” Thomas pressed.

            “Thomas!” Vince called.  “Let’s go!”

            Newt looked over at Vince.  “You’re already going off book,” he looked back at him.  “I’ll see you in an hour.  Hopefully.”  
  
            When he turned, Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt’s wrist. “Take this,” he said, nearly forgetting.  He unstrapped the black watch from his wrist.  “It syncs with my brown one, so we’ll be on the same time schedule.”   

            Newt ran his thumb over the face of it and then looked up at Thomas. 

            “I’ll see you soon,” Thomas said.  He stepped forward, but Newt held him back with a fist at his chest.  Thomas furrowed his brow at him.

            “Now you have to make it back to me.” Newt’s face broke into the smallest of smiles, and, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, Thomas grabbed onto that bit of light.

            The horn of the truck blared then and shook Thomas from the moment.

            “Go,” Newt said as he stepped backward.  “And I swear to God, Tommy, if you fall off that train…”

            Thomas shook his head.  “I promise.”  He pushed off from the sand and ran toward the truck.  The truck was already moving when Thomas jumped inside and slammed the door shut behind him.  He exhaled a long breath.

            “Here we go,” Vince said.  He pulled the wheel left and the truck barreled its way through the desert, leaving the tracks and boulders behind. Leaving Rupert, Josh and Newt behind. 

            Thomas leaned back in the seat and focused on breathing.

 

            “We’re not gonna make it,” Vince said over the roaring engine.  “We still need to take the doors off.”

            Thomas eyed his door.  “Any way I could do it while you’re driving?”

            “Did you magically gain tons of muscle overnight?”

            Thomas looked at the clock on the dashboard, but there was no use.  It was a cracked clock that permanently read 2:07.

            “Where’s the watch I fixed for you?” Vince asked.

            Thomas looked at his bare wrist.  “Gave it to Brenda.”

            “I thought you were giving her your black one?”

            “Gave that to Newt.”

            Vince looked at him quickly before looking back at the road.  “And you?”

            Thomas didn’t respond.

            “Thomas,” Vince laughed.  “What the hell? You’re supposed to be running this thing, how’re we gonna know what they’re doing if we don’t have anything to time it?”

            Thomas stayed silent.

            From the corner of his eye he could see Vince glance at him again, open his mouth to speak, and then close it. 

            Thomas took that as Vince coming to an understanding.  It didn’t matter if Thomas was synced with them.  It mattered that they were synced with each other.  It mattered that Newt would know where Brenda and the berg would be. It mattered that, if something went wrong with the train, Newt and Brenda would still find each other.

           

            Vince slammed on the brakes, a wave of sand and dirt billowing around them.  The two of them pushed their doors open and hopped out.  Thomas grabbed the toolkit from the back and got to work on his door right away.  Hinge and hinge he popped until the door finally came loose.  He tossed it off to the side in the sand and when he turned back, Vince was already working on his own. Thomas eyed the truck.  _This will work, this will work, this will work._

            Thomas checked the straps on his holster and tied the other to his waist.  He grabbed the handgun from the glove compartment and slipped it into the holster behind his back.  He secured the small messenger bag around him as well and double checked for the supplies inside.  He pulled his jacket from the back and slipped over him as Vince finished securing the hook at the front of the truck.

            “This should hold until you can hook us up to the train,” Vince said as he pulled on the strap. 

            Thomas nodded as he pulled on his gloves.

            “You sure you’re okay to do this?”

            “I’d be better if everyone would stop asking me that,” Thomas laughed.

            “Not for nothing, but it’s a bit of a crazy plan.”

            “Yeah, I know that,” Thomas laughed as he adjusted the holster again.  “It’d be nice if people stopped saying that too.”

            Vince nodded.  “You ready?”

            “As I’ll ever be,” Thomas shrugged.

            They stood for a minute and looked at each other.

            “If we weren’t at the buzzer, I’d tell you I’m proud of you,” Vince said.

            Thomas snorted. “Good thing we’re at the buzzer, then.  Get in the truck.”

            Vince let out a low laugh as he slid into the driver’s seat.  “Buckle up.”

            Thomas sighed.  “I can’t get out of the truck if I’m strapped in.”  
  
            “You’re not gonna be able to do anything if you fall out of the truck before we even make it there,” Vince said.  “Buckle up.”  
  
            Thomas stared at him as he pulled the seatbelt over himself and clicked it into place.  “Happy?”  
  
            “Ecstatic,” Vince smiled.  “Let’s go get them back.”  
  
            Thomas gripped the roof of the truck as Vince shifted gears.  And then they were moving.

 

            The desert brush passed in a blur in Thomas’ vision as they floored it back to the tracks.  They heard the train in the distance. 

            “That’ll be it,” Vince called out over the roaring engine as the truck left the ground over a bump.

            Thomas grit his teeth as he held onto the truck.  He hoped Brenda and Jorge had made it fine.  Part of him began to panic that there would be more than one berg.  But no, he couldn’t think of that. 

            His mind wandered to Frypan and the others.  Were they able to even make the tunnel trap?  What if they didn’t have enough time? What if they ran into problems?  Thomas should have gone over to check on them, but deep down he knew there was no time for it.  He just had to trust they were able to pull it off.

            And then, of course, there was Newt.  Crouched in the desert behind a boulder, waiting.  Thomas knew there was no way WCKD would see him.  They wouldn’t be looking out to the side behind rocks for hidden enemies.  Still…

            Thomas’ focus was rocked back when they crested another hill. His eyes snagged on the train ahead of him.

            A rusted metal mass flying down the desert, nearly fifteen cars long. And there, just between the cars, a rusted blue truck speeding along on the other side.

            Thomas felt his chest loosen.  They made it.  This was it.

            He pulled the walkie from the center console.  “Brenda, we’re coming up behind! Keep ‘em busy!”

            “Hang on!” Vince called over to him.  They hit another rock and Thomas felt the truck lurch.

            Vince floored the pedal as they picked up speed.

            “Are we gonna make it?” Thomas called over.

            “Stop asking that!” Vince called back.

            Thomas’ head shot back to Newt again.  They had to make it.  He had to make it out of this. 

            Suddenly Thomas’ head spun.  If he didn’t make it out of this…  No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that.  He wouldn’t let himself think of not seeing Newt once more.  Of not being able to…

            There were too many things that had gone unsaid between them.  Too many moments that had been pushed aside, put off until later.

            Why hadn’t Thomas just pushed his hand away and kissed him? 

            He watched the train speed ahead.  His legs were shaking in the seat.  He focused on stilling them.  He was going to do this.  He was going to get on the train, run across the cars, and save Minho.

            He was going to do this.

            The truck hit the tracks and lifted from the ground again and Thomas tightened his grip on the roof.  Vince worked to steady the truck on over the train tracks.  Thomas could feel the friction on the wheels below.  He kept his focus ahead on the train.

            “This is crazy, Thomas!” Vince shouted.

            Thomas glanced back over at him.  “Now Vince? Now’s the time to be saying this?” He looked forward again and stilled his legs as much as he could while they swayed back and forth in the truck.  He stared at the back of the train – ladders looking smaller than ever.  Celina had told him about this.  It was how she and Joel used to ride the trains across the desert.  They just had to get onto those ladders and get to the top.  From there, it would be a balancing act.  At least Thomas was good with that.

            Thomas clicked the buckled of his seatbelt and released it.  It was now or never.  He reached up and grabbed the top of the car to hoist himself up, swung a leg onto the hood of the car and held onto the sunroof.  The wind blasted against hi, sand and dust pelting against his skin.  He looked down and saw the strap Vince secured.  He just needed to grab onto that and he’d be okay.  This was fine.  It was just like the table in the abandoned warehouse.  Except this one was moving at about 90 mph.

            He maneuvered himself to the hood and grabbed onto the strap, balancing his weight between both legs. He grabbed the hook from the front of the truck and set his focus on the train.  “Get me closer!” he called back to Vince.  They needed to get closer.  He just needed to be close enough to connect them.  

            He watched the back of the train get closer, the truck rattling beneath him.  He reached forward, all of his weight relying on the band strapped to the car.  Now. He had to do it now.  He stretched and hooked the wire to the back of the train.  A sigh of relief escaped him immediately. One try.  It only took one try. He looked up at the ladder and lunged, grasped onto it and immediately shifted to the side. More relief.  He was starting to think he could pull this off afterall.  “Come on, Vince!”

            He watched Vince maneuver the same way he had, centering the steering to secure the wheels on either side of the track.  Thomas’ gaze stayed on Vince as he stood tall on the hood of the car ready to jump.

            Thomas’ heart stuttered a split second before it happened.  He saw the tire blow out, discarded nearly a mile behind them instantly before Vince even fell across the hood of the truck, face inches from the wheel.  The entire truck sank on one side as Thomas called out to him.  The wire stretched on, separating the car farther from the train.  If Vince didn’t jump now, he’d never make it.  Thomas didn’t want to think about what that would mean.  The plan relied on Vince getting down to separate the cars.  If he couldn’t, could Thomas manage it alone?

 

            _“You need to spread the putty around the object,” Jorge explained, demonstrating with wet sand on the edge of the docks.  Thomas tilted his head down at it.  “You want it packed on tight enough to stick.”_

_“I don’t like this,” Newt murmured._

_Thomas closed his eyes and grit his teeth.  When he opened them again, Newt was gone._

_“This is the blasting cap,” Jorge said, holding up a small cylinder.  “And the detonator. Now it’s very important that you are out of range when you set the detonator.  This is a low-grade explosive, they were much, much bigger years ago before they were able to tame them.  But it is still very important that you are out of the blast range.  Just the air pressure will send you as far as twenty feet out.”_

_Thomas nodded._

_Vince turned to look up at him from where he was crouched down.  “Which puts me in charge of it.  You’re to get as far away as possible, you hear me?”_  
  
_“Vince, I’m here to help you.”_  
  
_“No, Thomas. I’m helping you.  You’re the one leading this group.  If anyone’s making it out, it’s you.”_

_“It’s you too, Vince,” Thomas furrowed his brow._

Thomas watched as Vince pushed himself up again, balancing on the skewed truck.  The wire continued to stretch.  As everything else was, it was now or never.

            “Jump!” Thomas yelled out to him, waving him on, thankful the train blocked most of the wind. 

            Vince pushed off and stretched out toward the train-car.  Thomas watched him arch, but froze when Vince sank low.  Thomas shot a hand out as a last-ditch effort, but thankfully Vince managed to grab the ladder.  His legs dragged on the tracks below, but Thomas couldn’t focus on them.  The hook had released from the train and the truck flipped up, dust and sand and rock exploding around them.  Thomas turned into the train, waiting for impact, knowing that if he didn’t die right then and there – Newt would be the one to kill him after this was done.

            But nothing came.

            Thomas turned and saw the truck land on the tracks behind them, distance growing immediately.

            He heard a grunt from Vince as he tried to pull himself up and Thomas dragged his focus back to the mission at hand.  He reached down and grabbed Vince’s jacket to pull him up, letting Vince use him as a hold.  He grit his teeth at the pressure on his shoulder.  He pulled and Vince grabbed onto the ladder, swinging his legs up.  They both stood for a minute and looked back at the truck.

            “Shit,” Vince breathed.

            “Let’s go!” Thomas called out to him. 

            “Hey!” Vince called back and pointed behind them. “Berg!”

            Thomas looked back.  There it was.  Where the hell were Brenda and Jorge?  Thomas tried to lean to the side to look around the train and saw the truck driving in the far distance.  “Stay still!” Thomas called to Vince.  “If they don’t see movement from us, they might not notice we’re even here!”

            “They probably saw the truck flip, Thomas!”

            Thomas nodded.  “Then they think we’re already dead.”  He exchanged a glance with Vince before he pulled the walkie from his waistband again.  “Hey Brenda!” he yelled into it.  “You got company!”

            Thomas leaned around the side of the train again as the berg passed them.  A moment later he flinched and then watched on in horror as the sand began to explode around the truck, billowing out and covering the truck from view.  His heart hammered in his chest harder than it had been, breath coming in shallow.

 

            _“Thomas, don’t give me that look.” Brenda rolled her eyes and shoved another pack of ammunition in her bag._

_“I don’t want you being the distraction.”_

_“What else do you want me to do? You don’t want anyone on that train with you, we’ve already got enough people posted by the tunnel trap.  I’m not leaving Jorge in that truck alone.”_

_Thomas clenched his jaw.  He knew she was right, there was no way they were going to leave Jorge alone with no backup while he was driving.  Still, it didn’t mean Thomas had to like it._

_“If I can trust you to run across a train and not die, you can trust me, right?”_

_Thomas huffed a laugh.  “Sure, just don’t die.”_

_“You either.”_

The sand cleared and Thomas spotted the truck veering off to the North, on route to Frypan and the others. Brenda’s voice shot through the walkie.  “Thomas, you’re on your own! Don’t die!”

            Thomas fought the smile on his face.  “Good luck!”  He turned to Vince. “We gotta move, come on!”

            They needed to move fast.  They had to get the train separated right before they reached Newt and the others.  If they were even half a mile past them, the plan would be ruined.  Thomas didn’t want to think of that.

            He pulled himself on top of the train and pushed, wind nearly toppling him back over.  He bent double on the train and ran forward until his body got used to the momentum.  All the practice in the back of Jorge’s truck was nothing close to this.  He had to move, they were getting too close to Newt’s hideout.  They should have been separating the train cars by now.

            He tore his focus away from the possibility of falling as he hurdled another gap between train cars.  He doubled his speed, trying to make up for lost distance every time he jumped and the train continued forward.  And then there, in the distance, there were WCKD guards. 

            “Thomas!” Vince shouted.

            Thomas didn’t bother to acknowledge it.  He didn’t have to.  He saw them, he knew they had to hurry.  With the WCKD guards running with the wind, they’d be here in no time. 

            Another hurdle.  That would be the fifth car.

            Thomas slowed to a stop at the edge, eyes set forward on the guards running toward them.  This was something they didn’t count on.  The guards weren’t supposed to know they were on the train.  “Shit,” Thomas mumbled as Vince swung down between the cars. He pulled his jacket down to unstrap the bag from his shoulders. He slid the strap from around him and tossed it down to Vince.  He knew his role.  Stay on top of the train and hold on. Keep away from the C-4.

            Instead, Thomas moved immediately.  He swung down over Vince and landed, boots hard on the metal surface between the trains.  Whether Vince wanted to stop him or not, he didn’t say a word.  Just kept to the mission.

            This is why Thomas brought him.

            Vince understood the mission: save the others.  Get as many out as they could.

            Thomas walked forward and pulled the gun from his holster.  He aimed it at the train ahead of them, waiting for the first sign of a WCKD guard.  He thought back to everything Newt taught him.  Right shoulder back, don’t lock his elbows, dominant leg back. 

            At the first sign, he barely blinked.  He pulled, flinching at the kickback.

            His bullets hit the train ahead.  He wasn’t great at all with aim, he knew that.  One day of training in the Scorch wouldn’t change that.  But if the bullets distracted the guards, if it threw them off just the slightest bit for Vince to get the explosive ready, he’d do what he could.

            He fired off a few rounds, but the guards kept coming.  Thomas turned over his shoulder.  “Vince?”

            “We’re set!” Vince yelled up to him.  “Cover your ass!”

            Thomas took one look back at the guards as he holstered his gun.  This was it.  He glanced to the side and saw boulders in the distance.  They just had to get separated and they were done.

            The guards began to jump down to Thomas’ level, and Vince yelled out another “take cover!”

            Thomas hopped the distance and swung to the side of the train car, grabbing onto the ladders. Bullets ricocheted around him, bouncing off the metal car of the train.  Thomas kept moving. 

            There was a small whistle and then sparks flew. 

            Thomas turned his head just in time as a flame burst from the center of the cars. And then something odd happened. 

           

            _“If we separate the train cars, the momentum is going to keep the train moving forward whether it’s attached or not,” Isaac explained.  “There’s too much weight in those cars for it to just slow to an immediate stop.”_

_“Wouldn’t it have emergency brakes in case something like this happened?” Harriet asked._

_“You can’t be sure of that,” Isaac shrugged.  “I’d leave room between where you want the train to separate and where you need it to stop.  I’d prepare for the momentum to take it off the rails too.”_  
  
            Thomas nodded. “We’ll separate it before we reach you three,” he looked at Newt, Josh and Rupert.

_Josh and Rupert nodded._

_Newt’s eyes stayed on the ground._

            The wheels stopped.

            Thomas looked forward again as the front half of the train continued on.  The squealing metal below rang out and the train slowed.  Emergency brakes, then.  Some part of Thomas stretched open at the relief. 

            The train continued to slow as Vince and Thomas pushed off from it.  Thomas looked forward, willing the rest of the train to continue on.  He knew it was only with luck that it would.  He also knew his luck had been running out quickly. He heard the squealing brakes a mile ahead.  This would be it then.  They had to move.

            He turned to the side, boulders in view, and sent out a high-pitched whistle.  He exhaled as Newt stood in the distance. Thomas willed his heart to slow to a steadier pace while Vince called out to the others.  He needed to focus.  They needed to get the ropes onto the train car.  Just as soon as he figured out which one it was.

            He turned to the cars.  There had to be some way to check inside, but there were no windows, no slivers of space or cracks.  Thomas ran down the side of the car, pounding on the metal.  “Minho!”

            An instant reverberation met him and suddenly there were voices yelling out from every direction of the train car.  There was something else there, something jingling. He tried not to think about it.

            He banged on the next train car down.  “Minho! Can you hear me?”

            Screams.  Yelling and screams as he walked back up to the first train car he’d hit.

            There were too many screams.  Too many.  He looked up at the train car as Newt spun around the edge, canister over his shoulder.

            Thomas had to make a decision. “This one. This one!”

            Newt set the canister down immediately, pulling his goggles up, but Thomas turned away.  He hoped he was right.  He had to be.  There was no room for doubt.  He met Vince at the front of the train again and they looked out to the WCKD guards.

            “Oh shit,” Vince breathed next to him.  “It’s gonna be close.”

            Thomas watched the guards begin to run down the tracks toward them.  This, he definitely did not plan on.  The guards were supposed to be long gone with the first half of the train.

            Too much was going wrong.

            He clenched his jaw and turned back to the car. 

            Vince was already pulling the ropes from the backpack Josh tossed him.  Thomas grabbed hold of one and clamored up the ladder.  They needed to move fast.  This was cutting it close and this time, they’d gone too far. If they failed now, it was over.

            Thomas couldn’t think about that now.        

            He hooked the rope to another corner and looked down over the edge to where Newt was still burning into the bolted holds on the side of the car.  He wondered how much he’d gotten through.  He wondered if he’d gotten through any.  He wondered if the gloves were working.  “Newt, how’re you doing?” he called down.

            “Don’t rush me.”

            Thomas worked his jaw.  It was fine.  Everything was fine.  Once they had Minho back, he and Newt would be able to talk this through.  Thomas survived the train jumping.  Everything was fine.

            He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his wrist and continued to loop the rope through the hold.  A moment later a bullet ricocheted past him. “Shit,” he flinched down too quickly, shoulder blazing in pain.  He didn’t focus on it.  He leaned forward to look below again. 

            Bullets skirted off the edge of the train car past Newt.  Still, he worked.  Of course he did.  He wouldn’t stop until he was forced to. 

            Thomas dropped the rope.  He yanked the gun from its holster again and aimed down to the guards.  _Distract them, that’s all you need to do.  If you hit a mark, that’s a bonus._ He shot a couple times, but the guards were too far.  Whatever guns they were carrying made better distance than his.  There was no winning this.  They were getting closer. 

            Thomas’ heart pounded.  Newt had nothing on him.  No gun, no shield.  His back practically to the guards.  If he couldn’t break the hold, they’d find another way.  Thomas wasn’t losing him too. “Newt! Get up here!”

            “Almost there!”

            Vince lowered himself from the train car and out of Thomas’ sight a minute later.  Thomas dropped down to his chest and looked over the edge to watch Vince hurry to Newt’s side, shooting off the guards.  Thomas aimed his gun and continued shooting as well.  A guard went down.  Whether it was his gun, Vince’s or Josh’s, Thomas had no idea. 

            It was one guard and they were out of time.

            Thomas kept firing.  There was nothing to do but fire. 

            A warmth and weight landed next to him.  “Where the hell are they?”

            Despite the danger, despite everything, relief ran through Thomas at Newt’s close presence.  “I don’t know!” he yelled back.  And then it hit him.  He didn’t know.  They were about to be overrun.

            He heard the guns continue to fire below and then Josh’s voice rang out from below.  “Go! There’s too many of them!”  A minute later he was on Newt’s other side yelling.  “Thomas! What do we do?”

            Thomas’s eyes flicked from guard to guard. 

            “Josh!” Rupert’s voice came from the end of the truck and Josh disappeared from Thomas’ sight to the edge of the car to help him up.

            Thomas looked at Newt.  And then there was wind.  Too much wind.

            The rumbling was like a song for Thomas as he looked up.  Doubts crept at the back of his mind but he pushed them further back.  It had to be them.  He had to believe it was them.

            The berg hovered over the train. 

            “It’s either gunshots or a rope,” Thomas reasoned, looking up at the opening door.

            “Well that’s comforting,” Newt responded.

            “It is now,” Thomas smiled as the door finished opening up and a long rope lowered toward them. Frypan smiled down at them.  Thomas grabbed the rope at his heels and reached up.  “Come on!”

            “Lower!” Newt called up.

            Finally, Thomas leapt and grabbed onto the hook, grunting at the pain blossoming in his shoulder.

            Newt’s hand was on his back in an instant, steadying him.  

            Thomas held the hook forward as Newt looped one of the chains from the ropes around it.  They continued until each corner of the car was attached to a rope looped on the hook. Thomas did one more check before he signaled for Frypan to raise the cord. “Go! Go!”  Thomas turned to Newt.  “Get Vince up here.” When Newt called down, Thomas turned to Josh and Rupert. “Good?”

            Josh nodded at him.

            “Hold on!” Thomas yelled.  All four of them stayed low to the train car, steadying themselves as it began to lurch sideways and then up.  Thomas called over the edge of the car.  “Now, Vince!” and then a hand was at his back pulling him to the center again.

            “Stay back,” Newt ground out.

            Thomas grit his teeth.  He steadied himself and then stood, pulling the gun from his holster.  He aimed down and started shooting again. He had no idea if he’d hit any marks, but he didn’t care.

            A moment later, Vince pulled himself over the edge and Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as he looked around the train car.  Newt, Vince, Josh, Rupert.  They’d made it.  He looked out across the way, the car rising above the desert.  This was it, it worked.  A cheer broke out of him.  They deserved this.  They deserved a win.

            He looked up to where Frypan and Brenda peered down at them through the opening, cheering along.  Thomas’ veins buzzed.  This was it.  They had Minho.  They had all of them.

            He brought his focus down again to the desert far below them, growing smaller.  Josh echoed a victory cry behind him and then there were hands patting his back. Thomas turned and immediately there were arms around him, a fluffy collar against his jaw.  He wrapped his arms around Newt, letting the moment sink in before Newt stepped back all too soon and turned to Vince.

            Thomas crouched down on the container and exhaled.

            “Alright, Thomas?” Rupert called over, crouched down on the side.

            Thomas nodded and smiled over at him, heart pounding, breathless.  He looked up to the opening of the berg and watched as a long rope began to lower with a harness attached.  He looked back down to Rupert and pointed.  “You’re up,” he breathed out.

            Rupert nodded and slowly made his way to the center of the train car. The berg slowed only a little in attempt to keep the car steady.  Thomas and Vince helped Rupert strap himself into the harness and then he was being reeled up by the others.

            “Who’s next?” Thomas turned.  “Josh, get over here.”

            Josh cautiously let go of the rope he’d been holding and skittered to the center, nearly tumbling into Thomas.

            “Shit, Josh,” Thomas laughed.  “Don’t ruin it now.”

            “Fuck off,” he laughed. He pulled the shotgun from around him and let Vince and Thomas strap him into the harness.

            Thomas gave Brenda the signal above and a minute later, Josh was pulled into the berg.  Newt and Vince followed after and finally, Thomas strapped the harness to his own holster across his chest.  He gave Brenda a signal and was yanked up immediately.  He clenched his jaw at the bite of pressure against his ribs.  He would deal with this pain. He would absolutely deal with this pain if it meant Minho was back. 

            He felt hands at his shoulders and chest pulling him into the cool air of the berg.  He helped hoist himself inside, sliding against the floor.  Another cheer let out from the side and he turned to see Frypan. “You did it, Thomas!”

            “We all did, Fry,” he laughed as he unhooked the harness from himself.  The door in the floor closed, only enough room for the hook to fit through to carry the train car. 

            Thomas pushed himself up and then caught the wall for balance.  His head spun.

            “Sit down,” Harriet called over to him from the front.  “Your nerves are shot.  Just relax.”  
  
            Thomas nodded and then nearly crawled his way to a small bench on the side of the berg.

            “Hey there, Leader.”

            Thomas looked up to see Micah hanging onto the handle attached to the roof of the berg, hair draped over one of his eyes.  “Oh great,” Thomas nodded. “You made it.”  Thomas looked around the rest of the berg.  Celina and Joel stood on the other end as well.  Each of them had one arm on a handle and one around each other.  Isaac held onto another handle a bit further down where Rupert met him and performed some sort of handshake. Josh slumped against the wall on the floor by the front of the berg, eyes closed.  Still, there was a hint of a smile on his face.

            Thomas took a deep breath and tried to relax, eyes closed.  He didn’t know how long it’d be to reach the Safe Haven.  Jorge had a map up front with him.  Harriet had taken on the role of helping direct and Vince worked his way up there, too.  Still, something was off.  He opened his eyes.

            “Hey, Tommy.”

            Thomas looked up to where Newt stood across from him, holding onto one of the bars to steady himself.  “Hey,” he answered, softly.

            Newt’s mouth curled slightly and then fell again, guilt flashing across his face.  He dropped his gaze and then spoke softly.  Thomas barely heard it over the rumbling of the berg around them, but he could see it in his demeanor.  “I’m sorry.”

            Thomas felt a dam break loose inside of him.  “Newt,” he shook his head.  “Come here.”

            Newt looked at him for a moment before he dropped his hand from the bar and walked over to Thomas.  When he was only a foot away, Thomas stood up.  He pulled him into his arms and into himself as he stood into the kiss.

            There was only moss and mint and Newt’s arms around him, and Thomas knew it was done.  He knew the chase was done.  The waiting, the searching, the fear of not knowing.  It was done.

           

 

            Thirty minutes later, Thomas lifted his head from Newt’s shoulder at the scuffling in the front of the berg.

            “What’s going on?” Newt asked.

            “Not sure,” Thomas shook his head.  “Hang on.”  He unlinked his fingers from Newt’s and made his way to the front.  He slid between Frypan and Vince.  “What’s happening?”

            “It’s the fuel,” Vince answered.  “Didn’t plan for this part.”

            Thomas looked down at the fuel gauge.

            “See that red line?” Jorge called over his shoulder.  “We get below that and we’ve got about seven minutes to land this baby.”

            Thomas eyed it.  “How much time do you think we have?”

            “Right now?” Jorge asked.  “About twenty.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “We’ve gotta find a place to land this thing,” Vince said.

            “Where the hell are we gonna do that?” Harriet asked.

            “The weight is using up more of the fuel,” Brenda explained.  “We need to set the car down and move the kids to the berg to lose that weight.”

            “That’s not gonna do much of a chance,” Jorge said.  “It’s a good idea but that’ll buy us what, another hour maybe?  We’re gonna need time to get to the Safe Haven.”

            “How long?” Thomas asked.

            “Longer than an hour,” Jorge laughed.

            There was a bang in the back of the berg and Thomas whipped his head around.  Newt walked up to join the group, taking a place next to Frypan.  “What’s happening?”

            “What the hell was that?” Thomas asked.

            “Micah fell,” Newt answered.  “What’s going on up here?”

            Thomas looked a bit past Newt to where Micah was lying on the floor, writhing. He figured it was best not to ask questions. Isaac and Rupert crouched down next to him.  They could handle it.  He turned back to Newt.  “Low on fuel.  We need to land.”

            “Land?” Newt asked.  “Land where?”

            “That’s what we’re sorting out,” Vince said.

            “We have to get back to the docks,” Josh said.

            “What?” Vince looked down at him.  “There’s no way we’d make it back there in time.”  
  
            “Why not?” Thomas asked.

            “We’ve been moving too far South,” Jorge answered.

            “But we’ve been going East too,” Brenda reasoned.  “Can we spin it North?”  
  
            Vince exhaled.  “We’d be cutting it real close.  We already moved this far South.”

            Thomas leaned over to look at the radar.  “Can we try it?  We don’t exactly have another option.”

            Jorge sighed. “Hold on tight.”  Without waiting, Jorge pulled on the levers and the berg began to lurch sideways.

            Thomas stumbled to the side and grabbed onto Frypan, who grabbed onto a handle. Thomas’ harness pulled against his chest as Newt grabbed onto it and when Thomas turned to look at him, he saw Brenda’s arm practically around Newt’s throat.

            The berg steadied itself and they all tumbled into the other direction.  Another bang issued out somewhere in the berg and Thomas looked over to see Isaac on the floor rubbing the top of his head.  “Fuck’s sake, guys.  Pick a direction!”

            Thomas balanced his weight as the berg sped up.  “Think we’ll make it?”

            “You hope,” Frypan muttered.

 

            When the docks came into view in the far distance, the fuel light went on.  “Seven minutes and counting,” Jorge murmured as he pushed the levers forward.  The speed of the berg increased and the fuel decreased. 

            Thomas looked up.  “Where are we even gonna land it?”

            Vince turned to him.

            “There’s no field or anything.  No stretch to put this train car.  Where are we gonna put it?”

            “There’s a spot,” Celina nodded.  “There’s a space out a bit further from the docks where there aren’t any buildings.  It’s at the edge of the docks.”

            “How much further?” Vince asked.

            Celina shrugged.  “Never measured it.”

            Thomas eyed the radar next to the lit fuel gauge.  “We’re gonna make it.”

            A hand grazed his back. 

            The berg continued to speed up and Jorge started to lower it just a bit.

            “Careful,” Vince said.  “That train car is hanging low. You don’t wanna go knocking it into any buildings.”

            Frypan leaned over to watch the radar.  “Once we get the train car down, where is the berg going?”

            Nobody answered.

            The buildings and docks came into a clearer view and Jorge turned the berg to angle it around any of the taller buildings, veering certain directions to keep the train car from bashing into any of them.

            “This is gonna be close!” Jorge called out.

            “It’s gonna be too close,” Vince murmured.  He turned to the others.  “Everybody grab onto something.”

            The group dispersed as the others started scrambling about to get to handles and benches.  Anything solid connected to the berg.  Thomas grabbed a handle from the ceiling, Newt steady behind him.

            A moment later the berg stilled.

            “What’s happening?” Newt asked.

            His answer came in a high-pitched squeal as the cord suddenly began to lower through the opening doors in the bottom of the berg. 

            Thomas leaned over as far as he could.  He felt Newt grab his free arm and took it as an extension of himself.  He let go of the handle and leaned forward to look down through the opening.  The cord continued to lower and soon there was a cloud of sand and dirt billowing out from below. 

            “Shit,” Vince said suddenly.

            Thomas looked over at him.

            “Someone’s gotta unhook the rope.”

            Thomas slipped out of Newt’s grasp before there was time for an objection.  In a quick movement, he pulled his gloves from his back pocket and started to lower himself down the cord, ignoring the calls for his name.  There was no time to debate this.  They had two minutes to land before the fuel gave out.

            When he was three feet above the train car he took a chance and let himself slide the rest of the way down, thankful for the gloves.  His boots hit the solid metal and he slid the rings off of the hook in two quick swipes. He wrapped his arm once around the cord, gripped it and looked up to where Newt, Vince and Brenda looked down at him.  “Go! Bring me up! Go!”

            A second later he was yanked up as the berg started moving again.  The air was fierce.  He held onto the cord with his other hand, shutting his eyes to the wind.  The cord continued to pull him up, but the berg turned and sent the cord swinging.  He watched a building come close – too close – and kicked out his legs to block the impact. But the cord pulled him up and he soared right over the edge of it. 

            And then he was descending again.  No – the berg was.  He looked up but Vince and Brenda had disappeared.  Only Newt stayed, pulling the cord up manually at this point. Thomas looked out around him.  Where the hell were they landing this thing?

            “Thomas!”

            Thomas looked up to where Newt continued pulling. 

            “Try to climb up if you can!”

            Thomas’s brain kicked back to the edge of a cliff, pulling himself up with paracord.  He grit hit teeth and he reached.  His left arm strained as he pulled himself up.  He kept the cord wrapped around his right arm, but reached up as much as he could with it to a higher point.  He pulled himself up, a grunted cry breaking through clenched teeth.

            “Almost there, Thomas!” Brenda’s voice called down.

            Thomas repeated the motion, first with his left arm, then his right.

            The cord pulled him up a bit further and he looked up to see Vince, Fry and Newt all pulling.  Brenda and Josh each reached an arm down to him.  He swung his left arm up, fingers grazing Brenda’s. 

            “Hurry, Thomas!” Josh called out.

            Despite his better judgement, Thomas turned to look below him.  They soared lower.  And everywhere was water.  Thomas pulled with his right arm as much as he could and reached his left arm up once more as the others pulled the cord.  Brenda gripped his arm and pulled and Josh’s arm was around his chest pulling him up into the berg.

            “Close the door, Jorge!” Newt called out.

            Thomas unraveled the cord from his right arm, ignoring the indents in his skin.  Vince pulled the bottom door shut and locked it against the floor. 

            “Alright, everyone hold on!” Vince called out.

            Thomas scrambled to the side and lifted himself to grab a handle above him.  His arms ached so much just from lifting them.  _It’s almost over,_ he reminded himself. _It’s almost over._

            The contact of the berg into the water sent Thomas’ knees buckling beneath him, grip tightening on the handle above him to keep him upright.  Others weren’t so lucky.  Celina crashed to the ground somewhere toward the back of the berg.  Brenda swung wildly from one side and into Newt on the other where he was somehow able to steady her against him. Someone’s shotgun slid across the floor of the berg.

            The lights flickered off and on around them as the berg continued to soar through the surface of the water.  Thomas tightened his hold on the handles and rebalanced himself on his legs. 

            Soon, the berg slowed and then there was a grinding sound from below and the berg halted as it shored up.  No matter who was holding on, no matter who was prepared, everyone fell.  Thomas found himself tumbling into a pile of limbs that crashed into the seats of the cockpit.  The lights flickered once more until they went out completely, the engine shut itself off, and then the only sounds were groans around him.

            “Your leg, your leg,” someone was saying, “move your leg.”

            “I’m trying.

            “Not that way!”

            “You’re on my arm, I can’t move.”  
  
            “Is that blood?”

            “No, you move your arm that way first.”

            Thomas pushed himself up from the ground, but felt a weight on his back.

            “Stop, stop, stop!” Harriet yelled.

            Thomas froze.

            There was more shuffling and then the weight slid off of Thomas’ back.  He turned to see Joel tumble to the ground next to him. Thomas raised his brows at him and received a thumbs-up and a grimace in response.

             “Come on,” Jorge groaned from the front seat.  “We’ve gotta get off this thing.”

            “Why?” Micah asked, disentangling himself from Brenda.  “Is it gonna explode?”  
  
            “Why don’t you stick around and find out?” Brenda asked.

            Micah bit the air in front of her.

            “This way,” Vince called out. 

            Thomas looked up to an exit in the roof of the berg.  He helped Josh drag a metal box over to use as a step stool to get through and one-by-one they all climbed out, stumbled across the nose of the berg, and landed in the dirt and sand.

            “I never thought I’d be so damn happy to see the ground again,” Frypan sighed.

            “You and me both,” Thomas laughed as he clapped him on the back.  They turned and watched the others make their way down from the berg, helping lower them all to the ground.

            “Thanks, Tommy,” Newt breathed, rubbing his neck.

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah, Harriet’s arm landed pretty hard on my throat, there,” he laughed, “but I’m okay.”

            “Sorry,” she laughed.

            “Everyone okay?” Thomas looked up at the others.

            Celina had a growing bruise on her cheekbone and Josh had a gash on his upper arm. The worst of the group was Jorge, a dripping cut from his forehead that he dabbed with a bandana. He waved away anyone trying to look at it.  “It’s a scratch, I’ll be fine.”  He looked back at the berg.  “That’ll be fun to deal with.”

            “Deal with?” Thomas asked.

            “Well, we don’t know if there is actually a tracker on it.  While the crash would have disabled it, I’d like to not lead WCKD anywhere close to here.”

            “Then we should be heading to the Safe Haven as soon as possible,” Harriet said.  “We need to get to that train car.”

            Jorge turned back to the berg.  “Wish I’d angled it a bit better.”

            “Yeah, didn’t think that through when you were trying to save all of our asses?” Brenda laughed.

            “Why?” Thomas asked.

            “We parked Bertha in the back of it.”

            “You what?” Thomas asked.

            “You thought I was gonna leave that truck behind?” Jorge laughed.  “Out of your little mind, _hermano_.”

            Thomas let a laugh out.  “You think you can figure out a way to get the truck out for now?” 

            Jorge nodded.  “I’ll work on it.  You work on getting those kids back.”

            Thomas turned to Newt.  “You ready?”

            “Been ready, Tommy,” Newt exhaled.

            “Let’s go get Minho.”

 

***

 

            It took close to ten minutes for Josh to finally burn through the door handle of the train car.  Thomas burst through, Newt on his heels and Harriet rushing in behind him.  Thomas’ eyes began to scan but stopped when he took in the sight. Nearly fifty of them, strapped to seats and chained.  His stomach turned.

            He looked up and his eyes snagged on a familiar face and then another. He lunged forward.  “Aris?” He looked down into Aris’ face, bruises and dried blood taking up most of the view. He looked over at Sonya, thin and pale. “Hey,” he started over, “you guys okay?”

            “Yeah, we’re fine,” Sonya nodded.

            Aris only stared up at him.

            Thomas patted him on the shoulder and moved down the line. “Jesus,” he murmured to himself as he took in the scarred and gaunt faces around him. “It’s okay,” he nodded to them.  “You guys are safe, alright? Just hang on.”  His eyes bounced from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face.  And then he was at the end of the car.  He turned slowly, eyes scanning over the faces again until he looked up and locked eyes with Newt. “He’s not here,” he breathed.

            Newt watched him a moment longer before turning away, eyes shifting over the faces just as Thomas’ had. Behind him, Harriet was with Sonya and Aris.  Josh knelt down next to a girl with blonde hair.  Celina and Joel were murmuring comforting words to some of the captives.

            A weight sunk deep within Thomas.

            There was a loud echo and he looked up to see Vince run onto the train car.  “Everyone okay?” Vince called out.

            A few confirmations rung out, but it was mostly silence. 

            “We’re gonna get these chains off of you.  You’re all safe now, you hear me?” he nodded to them.  “Follow these guys here,” he gestured behind him to where Isaac and Rupert stood.  “They’ll get you settled in and I’ll let you all in on the plan from here.  Just try to relax.”

            Thomas blinked himself back to focus.  He had to help get them off the train car.  That’s what he needed to do.  He shuffled past Newt and stepped over Josh.  “Vince!” he called as he hopped from the train car.

            “Yeah?”

            “How are we getting those chains off of them?”

            “Working on that,” Vince scratched his jaw.  “I’m thinking maybe-

            “-could pick the locks,” Isaac offered, jumping from the train.  “I could get started on that now if you want while you figure out your next move.”

            “Do we have a next move?” Thomas asked Vince.

            Vince shrugged. “At this rate, I don’t know what the deal is with that berg.  I’m gonna see if I can get one of those boats out for us as early as poss-”

            “Vince, we can’t leave,” Thomas said.  “Minho isn’t on that car.”  

            Vince looked at him.  “What?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “He wasn’t on that one.  We have to figure out where that train was headed.”

            Vince wiped the sweat from his forehead.  “Thomas, slow down.  Let’s tackle one thing at a time here.  We just barely got out of there alive.  Let’s take a breather.”  
  
            Thomas turned back to the train car.

            “So,” Isaac said.  “Should I be picking those locks or…?”

            “Yeah, get started on that until we can figure out something easier,” Vince said waving him off.

            “That is easy,” Isaac furrowed his brow.

            “Just go,” Vince said.

            Isaac and Rupert scurried back onto the train car.  A moment later Newt walked out.  Thomas dropped his gaze to his boots.  He watched them as they walked toward him, past him, and further. 

            Thomas felt the unease wrap around his chest before he followed Newt to the water’s edge.

            “Hey,” Thomas began.

            Newt kept his eyes on the water.

            “I talked to Vince,” Thomas tried.  “He said he just wants to settle everyone in, maybe get them all moving to the Safe Haven and then we can look int-”

            “It’s done, Tommy,” Newt said.

            Thomas replayed his words in his head.  “What? What’s done?”

            “This search,” Newt said.  “It’s over.”

            “Newt, Minho’s still out there.”

            “Yeah,” Newt looked at him.  “He is.”

            Thomas swallowed against the rock in his throat. 

            “He’s still out there,” Newt nodded.  “And that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

            Thomas felt something sink in him at Newt’s tone.  It matched the blinking red light in the back of Thomas’ mind. _Failure._   Thomas reached forward, but Newt put his hands in his pockets and closed himself in.

            “We should help the others,” Newt murmured as he brushed past Thomas.

            Thomas’ chest hollowed, enough so that he couldn’t even tell Newt he’d be there in a minute.  It didn’t matter, Newt had already walked. 

            And Thomas stayed. 

            And Thomas stayed.

            And Thomas tried to remember how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We are officially in TDC Territory! We made it! THEY made it!!! 
> 
> 1\. Quick shoutout to Green for Heather’s name! Thank you!  
> 2\. Brenda’s Goodbye - And Brenda has some words to share. Very important words. Also, the brown watch that Thomas took from one of the abandoned warehouses so long ago. He knew it would come in handy one day.  
> 3\. Goodbye to Joe’s Truck - So, fun fact. When I was writing the scene of Newt sitting in Joe’s truck, preparing himself to leave it behind, I was at work (not that I was writing fanfic at work fkjhgkljshks) and the radio started playing the song that I listened to back when I originally wrote the Dancing scene in chapter 15. It made me so nostalgic! It was crazy timing. Anyway, I thought that was cool to share. This was mostly to give Newt and Thomas a quiet moment together. And also, of course, for Newt to say goodbye to Joe one last time - a way of saying goodbye to the last 6 months.  
> 4\. The Rescue Set-up - Plotting a place to separate the train, for Newt and them to hide where it would perfectly match up. Eek, that’s leaving a lot up to chance. But like Thomas said, “we’ll make it work,” which they apparently did so. Hey. Stroke of good luck, I suppose.  
> 5\. The Gloves - Hey look! Remember back when Newt burnt his hands at the abandoned warehouse and Thomas made him promise to wear gloves next time? (:  
> 6\. The Watches - This was just a small thing I wanted to include. Thomas is definitely nervous about the heist, though he wouldn’t let on to anyone. In his head, even if he doesn’t make it, having those synced watches will at least solidify Newt and Brenda finding each other.  
> 7\. TDC Scenes - Oh hey! TDC Territory! Officially! So a really quick note on this, I really didn’t want to just sit here and rewrite the entire scene because we’ve all obviously seen it. And the future chapters will skip around once in a while to avoid doing exactly that. I’ll mostly be writing the gap scenes we don’t get to see and the only time I’ll be focused on a specific scene from the movie is if I’m trying to explain how something I wrote links to that scene (like a few things in here). So don’t worry! You won’t be stuck reading scenes you’ve already watched.  
> 8\. The Rescue - I hope I did it justice! I wanted to write this out mostly because it is the first scene and a pivotal part. I dropped a few references from earlier chapters that I hope weren’t TOO heavy but enough to be noticeable little easter eggs.  
> 9\. The italicized sections here are parts from the past during the planning stages that didn’t make it into the final cut of those chapters. So I threw them as little snippets in here. Hope that wasn’t too confusing.  
> 10\. C4 Detonation - *awkwardly clears search history* Okay so clearly I made some alterations. There’s no way an explosion could have been set off (that close to compressed hydrogen ._. ) and not sent a blast MILES outward. So, I used my favorite excuse - the future! C4s have apparently been manufactured differently over the years and now only cause small detonations. Okay? Okay. Cool.  
> 11\. Don’t Rush Me - !!!!!!! Had to include this line, of course. I always wanted to know why Newt was so snarky to Thomas at this moment. So. Have my HC that he was annoyed with this whole crazy plan to begin with and panicking over Thomas and Minho and the others.  
> 12\. Getting into the Berg - Obviously, there was no way they all just returned and had Thomas and the others ride the whole way on the train car, right? So.. have them going up into the berg. lol  
> 13\. Something else I always wondered - why did they stop at the docks? Why couldn’t they take a berg to the Safe Haven? etc. So. I guess have low fuel in the berg.  
> 14\. The Aftermath - Clearly, not the outcome they’d all hoped for. Newt isn’t taking it so well. That’s all I’ll say on that note.
> 
>  
> 
> WOW a lot of notes. 
> 
> I literally.... went over the end note character limit this time around. :| So have the abridged version. *tugs collar* Love you all so much for keeping up with this story! Hope you're enjoying it!


	34. On Excuses and Exits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: There Is a Lot That Thomas Doesn't Know

 

            The sun betrayed Thomas.  It was far too bright.  It glanced off the water and hit his eyes like daggers.  There shouldn’t be this much sun, this much water.  This wasn’t how the world worked.  No wonder no one came out West.  It wasn’t natural.

            All these people sitting down listening to Vince ramble on about this Safe Haven?  Thomas knew it was wishful thinking.  A Safe Haven couldn’t exist here.  WCKD would always be out there chasing them.  And if it wasn’t WCKD, there would always be some other danger chasing them down.  Cornering them. 

            Thinking that they ever had a chance – that they’d won, that they’d ended this – Thomas should have known better. There was no winning when it came to WCKD.  They would always be one step ahead.

            Cheering from the crowd broke Thomas out of his thoughts.  He looked around and his eyes snagged on Josh sitting next to the blonde girl from the train car.  They were with others too, now.  Old friends, new friends.  Thomas didn’t know. Friends, at the very least. 

            “…we’re gettin’ the hell outta here,” Vince continued.  “We’re getting you to a place where WCKD will never find you.”

            Thomas’ chest tightened and his breath shortened.  Leaving. Everyone was already set to leave this all behind them.  To leave everyone else behind them.

            “…a place you can start over, a place you can call home.”

            Home. 

            Thomas pushed off the wall.

 

            He made it about three feet before he had to grab onto the wall again, stomach clenching and insides threatening to spill out.  His grit his teeth together as he swallowed around the rock in his throat.  It seemed permanently lodged there the last few days. Why would today have been any different?  His breathing was shallow around it and he could barely get a full breath down.  He let himself fall sideways into the brick wall and turned onto his back, hidden in the shade.  He closed his eyes and waited until the spots in his vision cleared.

            His heart slowed a bit more and he finally pushed off the wall.  The panic attacks came mildly, but they came frequently.  He cricked his neck to the side.  He supposed he’d always live with them.  Might as well get used to dealing with it.  He continued walking.

            He ignored the pain in his chest, but after he walked around the back of the building he couldn’t take it anymore.  He tore the harness off and gulped down another breath, let it fill his lungs.

            His eyes snagged on Brenda, off to the side once again.  She and Jorge had gotten Bertha out of the berg and over to the building.  They weren’t officially told that Minho wasn’t on the train car but then, they didn’t need to be told.  It was clear when Thomas, Newt and Frypan were still just the three of them.  When there was no fourth presence.

            Thomas walked through the building and nodded at Isaac.  He dropped eye contact immediately.  He wasn’t much in the mood for conversation. He wasn’t much in the mood for anything.  Especially not –

            “Hey, Leader.”

            Thomas closed his eyes.  He’d never actually hoped for a panic attack, but if it would get him out of this, then he’d take it.

            He felt a hand clasp onto his shoulder and he instinctively shrugged out of it.  He opened his eyes.  “What is it, Micah?”  
  
            Micah tilted his head at him.  “Touchy.”

            He was far too close.  Thomas took a step back and his leg banged into the kitchen counter.  “Micah,” Thomas repeated, “personal space.”  
  
            Micah’s smile grew, baring teeth that blended into dark gums.  “Of course,” he said as he took one long step backward.  “Silly me.”  
  
            Thomas stayed pressed against the counter.

            “I just wanted to check how you were doing.”  
  
            “You care,” Thomas said.

            Micah tilted his head.  “I do.”

            “I don’t,” Thomas said.  He pushed off the counter and turned to walk into the next room.  He clenched his jaw when he heard footsteps following him.  He paused after he stepped through the next room.  “What’s this?”  He looked around at all of the hanging hammocks, the crates piled up with torn mattresses thrown on them, other sheets bundled in the corner to create makeshift beds.

            “We’ve got a lot of people here now, Leader,” Micah explained.  “Gotta be accommodating and all that.  Besides, it’s only for two nights. Then we get to skip along to the Safe Haven.”

            Thomas swallowed.

            “You’re still a man of your word right, Thomas?” Micah asked, voice stronger than it had been.

            Thomas turned to him. 

            Micah’s eyes dropped.  “I know you didn’t get your friend back,” he looked back up to Thomas, “but we tried.  I tried.”

            Thomas looked between Micah’s eyes.  This close, now that Thomas was looking at him, he could see that the color had nearly gone completely.  His eyes were black, bits of white still in the corners.  There were faint lines beneath the skin on his face that stretched and connected to those at his neck.  Still, there was something human about the way he looked at Thomas now.  Something human about the way his eyes tilted, pleaded.

            “The boat leaves in two days,” Thomas nodded. 

            “And you’ll get me on it?”

            Thomas needed to get out of the building.  The hammocks, the presence of so many people that weren’t Minho… “You don’t need me to get you on the boat, Micah.”  He took a step, but Micah’s hand was around his arm immediately like a vice.  Thomas looked down at it and then up at Micah.

            “Thomas,” he nearly growled.  “I need your help.”  
  
            Something like fury flashed across Micah’s face, but Thomas blinked and it was gone along with his hand.

            “Please,” Micah said quietly.  “You said you’d help me if I helped you.  You’re a man of your word aren’t you?”

            Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest.  “Sure, Micah,” he nodded.  “I’ll try.”

            Micah’s face seemed to slowly shift into something softer, something that made Thomas realize he hadn’t been quite _human_ a moment ago.  “Thank you.”

            Thomas blinked his gaze away.  “I have to find the others.”  He stepped around Micah and kept his eyes to the floor.

            “Thomas!” Micah called out.

            Thomas paused, but kept his eyes on the stone floor.

            “I’m sorry about your friend.”

            Thomas felt the last of the breath leave his lungs.  He turned, just barely.  Enough so that when he spoke, Micah would hear him.  “I’m sorry about yours, too.”  Whether Micah understood or not, Thomas didn’t bother to find out.  He moved his legs forward and left Micah and the hammocks behind him.

 

            His eyes immediately found Newt and Frypan on the rocks just around the back of the building.  He knew he’d have to talk to them eventually, but it didn’t stop his chest from tightening worse than it had been since his last talk with Newt.  

            He forced himself to take one step, and then another. 

            Frypan turned to look at him first, mouth quirking up in the smallest of smiles.  Newt turned and caught Thomas’ gaze and, to some relief inside of him, held it as Thomas walked closer.

            “Hey,” Thomas barely spoke out.  He walked around them and took a seat on the rock next to Newt.   

            “Vince has pretty much got this place running under his say-so,” Frypan said as he nodded forward.

            Thomas looked out to where Vince was calling out instructions to both the new immunes and people who had been there, waiting for the next boat out to the Safe Haven. Thomas reached down to a small stone and flipped it over in his hands to keep them from shaking.

            “Two days,” Frypan continued.  “And we leave.”

            “Leave?” Thomas asked, fingers stilling.

            “We don’t have much of a choice,” Newt said softly.

            “Vince secured this boat,” Frypan explained.  “Harriet is leaving with Sonya and them.  Josh and Amanda are set to go meet Bernard.  No one’s sticking around anymore.”

            “It’s over,” Newt said.

            Silence fell between them again, broken only by machines working in the distance, commands called out and bags tossed into piles. Was this it?  Was this what the last six months lead to?  He worked to keep his leg from bouncing.

            “I wanted Minho to be on that train too, Tommy,” Newt said suddenly.

            “We all did,” Frypan added, looking back at Thomas.

            “I just can’t believe we’re talking about leaving without him,” Thomas said.

            “I know,” Newt said softly.  “Vince is trying to look after the others.”  He paused before continuing.  “Y’know, six months we’ve been chasing WCKD around the Scorch trying to find Minho.  I’m surprised he even held out as long as he did.”

            Thomas froze.  He heard the defeat in Newt’s voice, the loss.  It was the same tone that Brenda had.  He turned to Newt, and could see it in his face.  Newt was giving up.  Newt had already given up. 

            “This, I don’t know, Safe Haven,” Newt continued with a shake of his head.  “I don’t know if it’s the Paradise that Vince keeps saying it is.”  Newt looked at him now, brows knitted together.  “But I do know that Minho gave up everything so that we could have this chance.  What?  Do we just throw that away?”

            Thomas dropped Newt’s gaze, unable to hold it any longer.  This wasn’t where they were supposed to be.  They were’t supposed to be giving up like this.  _Newt_ wasn’t supposed to be giving up like this.

            “I don’t know,” Frypan spoke up.  “But I think he’d kick all of our asses if we did,” he laughed softly.

            Thomas looked up at Newt, his tilted smile letting a small laugh escape.  It didn’t match his eyes, though.  Thomas wondered if Newt knew just how transparent he became in that moment.

            “Hey!”

            Thomas turned at Harriet’s voice and saw her standing above them on a ledge of the building.

            “It’s Aris.  He’s talking.”  
  
            Thomas looked at Newt briefly before he stood from the rock.

            “Talking?” Frypan asked.  “You think he knows something?”

            “Maybe,” Thomas said.  “Come on.”

            “You really think anything he says is going to change this?” Newt asked.

            Thomas paused and turned back to him.  “You don’t?”

            Newt’s brows flicked upward once.

            Thomas held his gaze, determined not to drop it this time.  He needed to hear it, needed to hear Newt say he’d given up.

            Newt looked at Frypan and then nodded at the ground.  “Let’s go.”

            Thomas knew it wasn’t much, but he still considered it a victory.

 

            They walked into the building through the kitchen, but slowed when they saw Brenda at the counter.

            She looked up at Thomas.  “Figured I’d try my hand at Jorge’s recipe.”  She gestured at a few of the tin cups and mugs scattered around her.

            “You could’ve asked for help,” Frypan laughed.

            She shifted his gaze to him and smiled.  “You think I need it?”

            “Hand me one and I’ll let you know,” he laughed.

            Something eased around them in the air and Thomas smiled up at Frypan, wondering how he was able to stay so lighthearted in times like this. 

            “Thomas?”

            He turned to face Brenda.

            “Tea?” she asked, holding out a mug.

            Thomas shook his head.  “I’m good.”  
  
            Newt reached out and took the offer.  “Where’s Aris?”

            Brenda nodded behind her.  “In with the others.”

            “Hey,” Harriet said joining them from the room Brenda had just motioned to.  “Is that tea ready?”

            Brenda nodded and handed her two cups.

            “Thanks.  Come on, he says he remembers a bit of it.”  
  
            Thomas glanced at Newt once more before he led the way into the next room over. 

 

            Aris and Sonya were both sitting next to the doorway as Sonya cleaned bits of Aris’ cuts. 

            Thomas crouched down in front of Aris as Newt pulled a chair over from the rubble in the back. Harriet offered them the teas and took a seat just behind Sonya.  Thomas eyed the small gap between them, but brought his gaze back up to Aris.

            “Took you guys long enough to rescue us,” Aris laughed.

            Thomas attempted a small smile and reached out to him.  “It’s good to see you too, bud.” He swallowed, unsure of how to start the conversation.  He figured it best to just move on to it.  “So what happened?”

            “I fought back,” Aris laughed. “Tried to, anyways.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow.

            “You’re lucky you found us at all,” Sonya spoke up.  “They had us on the move a lot.  Felt like something big was happening.”  
  
            Thomas looked back at Aris until Newt spoke up.  “Any idea where they were headed?”

            Aris furrowed his brow.  “All I know is,” his eyes flickered over some memory, “they kept talking about a city.”

            Thomas looked back at Newt.  The two locked eyes.

            “I didn’t think there were any cities left,” Harriet said.

            “That’s because there aren’t,” Brenda spoke up from the back. “Not still standing anyway.”

            Thomas shook his head and looked back to Aris. “Okay, wait, what about Minho? Why wasn’t he on the train?”

            Aris dropped his gaze and exchanged a look with Sonya.  The two looked away from each other and shifted a bit before Aris finally looked back up at Thomas.  “I’m sorry, Thomas,” Aris said softly.  “He was.”

            Thomas looked between the two of them.  “Wait, what do you mean he was?”

            “You mean he got off?” Newt asked.

            “Not exactly,” Aris mumbled.

            “What does that mean?” Frypan asked, looking at Thomas.

            “I didn’t really catch most of it,” Aris shook his head.  “It all happened so fast.”

            Thomas looked between him and Sonya, but – again – Sonya wouldn’t meet his gaze.  She just stared at the mug in her hands, eyes slowly glazing over.

            “He was seated across the aisle from us and one row up,” Aris explained.  “There was a guard doing checks before we left the last facility.  Securing the handcuffs, and all that.  Minho had been tagged before we even got on the train so-”

            “Tagged?” Newt asked.

            “Marked as temperamental,” Sonya explained.  She looked up at Thomas.  “A problem.”

            “Why was he tagged?” Thomas asked.

            Aris swallowed and Thomas watched his hands tighten around the mug.  “There’s a much longer story for that,” he said softly.

            Thomas looked over his shoulder at Newt.

            Newt’s eyes shifted from Aris to Thomas, brow furrowed.

            Thomas turned back to Aris.  “Just give us what we need to know.”

            “Maybe we should just stick to the train,” Sonya said suddenly.  “For now.”

            Thomas looked between them.

            Aris nodded.  “Right,” he said to his hands.  “The train.”

            Silence fell between them again.  Thomas turned to look at Harriet.

            “Should we take a break?” Harriet asked.

            “No,” Aris said.  “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” Thomas said softly, reaching out to him again.  “Take your ti-”

            Thomas was cut off by the shattered mug.  He flinched back toward Frypan and stared at it.  His gaze lifted to Sonya, who sat trembling, with eyes distant.

            “Shit,” Aris hissed.  He turned and grabbed onto her shoulders. “Sonnie?”

            “What’s happening?” Harriet asked, jumping forward.

            “Please don’t!” Sonya shouted.

            Thomas watched on as Sonya continued to shake, eyes glassed over.  “What’s going on?” Thomas asked as he slid forward on the floor.  “Is she okay?”

            “She’s having a relapse.”

            “A what?” Harriet asked.

            “Sonnie!” Aris shouted.  He reached forward but she smacked his hand away.

            “Not him!” Sonya yelled.

            “Look at me!” He reached up and shifted her face to his.  “Look at me.  It’s Aris.  It’s Aris,” he said.  He reached down and grabbed her hand, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt.  There was a small scar in her forearm that he pressed his thumb to.

            “What’re you doing?” Harriet yelled.

            “Sonya!” Aris shouted, hand straining with how hard he pressed down.  “It’s Aris! It’s Aris!”

            “No,” she said.  “Please don’t. Please…” She shook her head and then suddenly, her eyes cleared and shifted to find Aris’.  “Aris?” she asked quietly.

            “Yes, it’s me,” he said, nodding.  He let go of her arm.  “Are you here?”

            She nodded. “Yeah, I’m…” she looked around the room at the rest of them.  “I’m… I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” Aris said.  “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

            Harriet slowly sat back on her heels.  “What just happened?”

            Sonya turned to face Harriet, but she paused halfway.

            Thomas followed her gaze.

            Newt’s brow furrowed.  He looked around the group and then back to Sonya.  “Are you alright?”

            Thomas turned to look back at her.

            She didn’t respond.  She only looked back down at the floor and then over her shoulder to Harriet.  “Is there somewhere I can lie down?”

            Harriet’s brows tilted upward.  “Of course,” she nodded.  She pushed up to stand and held a hand down.  “Come on.”

            Sonya grabbed Harriet’s hand and stood on shaking legs.  Harriet wrapped an arm around her to steady her before she led her through the crumbled doorway and into the hammock room.

            Thomas turned back to Newt and then to Aris.

            Aris shook his head.  “Sorry,” he exhaled.  “She’s been getting more of those day by day.”

            “More of what?” Thomas asked.

            Aris looked up at him.  “Memories.”

            Thomas shook his head, sure he heard Aris wrong.  “Memories?”

            “From before the Maze?” Frypan asked.

            “Yeah,” Aris nodded.  “They started giving them to all of us.  They only got through some of us before it was interrupted.”

            “Interrupted how?” Thomas pressed.

            Aris shifted and a look of something almost like pride crossed his face.  “We fought back.  They took Sonya and that was pretty much a last straw for a lot of us.  We’d been working out a plan to fight back and when they took her it just sort of happened.  The only thing is, we took too long.  They were able to put this thing into her arm to trigger the memory receptors or whatever it was.  I don’t know all the details, but the process only just started before the power in the facility was cut.”  Aris’ smile faltered.  “She was in the middle of it.  I don’t know how it works, or how it was supposed to work, but she doesn’t get full memories now.  She just gets flashes.”

            Thomas swallowed and turned back to Newt and Frypan.  “Like the Griever stingers.”  
  
            “The what?” Aris asked.

            “Nothing,” Thomas shook his head.  “Why were they giving you your memories back?”

            “They said something about getting more of a reaction from us.  I don’t know.  It looked like they were trying to do something similar to what they tried back at the first facility we broke out of.  But, it was different somehow.”

            Thomas swallowed down the memory of the countless kids strung up in the basement of the Scorch Facility.  Not dead, but not exactly alive either. 

            “Did Minho?” Newt asked.

            “Get his memories back?” Aris clarified, and then laughed.  “No.  He was pretty much leading the fight back.”

            Thomas’ mouth curled up in a small smile.  “Not entirely surprised.”

            “Is that why he was tagged?” Newt asked.

            Aris’ smile faltered again.  “No, not cuz of that.”  Silence soaked up the room before Aris cleared his throat.  “But anyways, the train.  Sonya was having another relapse and I was trying to calm her down.  The guard kept telling us to be quiet, but she kept screaming at him.  Crazy screams, not like anything I heard from her before.” He shook his head.  “The guard tried to grab her to pull her from the train so I pushed him back.  That’s when…” his sentence faded into a small laugh as he gestured to his face.  “Anyway, Minho was the one who got him off of me.  Somehow, he was able to kick the guard off balance and then wrapped the chain that was holding him around the guard’s neck.  It worked until three other guards ran onto the train to find out what the noise was.  I’d gotten up to push them off but they used this electric shock thing against me.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up handcuffed to the seat and Minho was gone.”  
  
            “They took him off the train,” Newt said.

            Thomas shook his head.  “I heard him.  I swear I – I heard him, though.”  
  
            “They might have moved him to a different car.  I don’t think they would have taken him off if they were moving all of us,” Aris said.

            “A different car,” Newt repeated.

            Thomas didn’t look back at him.

            “If he was on the train,” Frypan said, “and you’re saying they were talking about a city, you think that might be where they’re taking Minho?”

            Aris shrugged and then winced.  “Might be.”

            “Do you remember anything about this city?  Where it might be?” 

            “Tommy,” Newt said softly.

            Thomas paused and turned back to look at him.

            “It’s okay,” Aris said.

            Thomas looked up at Aris.

            “If there’s some way I can help you find him,” Aris nodded, “I’m in.”  
  
            “Whatever you can tell us about the city.”

            Aris exhaled. “It’s just what I overheard from the guards.  They stood outside of our rooms each night, so it was easy to hear them as long as they were around.  They kept talking about heading North.  No matter what facility we ended at, they always wanted to head North, through the mountains.  We were supposed to move out that way three or four months ago.  We’d been moved to a smaller facility initially, but I guess it was too small.  And then something stood in the way of us getting past the mountains, so we moved South instead.”

            “Okay, hang on,” Thomas held up a hand.  “Is it okay if you just wait one minute, I wanna get this all down.”  He pushed up from the floor and jogged through the kitchen and outside.

            “Thomas!” Vince called.  “Give us a hand!”

            Thomas jogged over to him.  “Aris is talking,” he explained.  “I can’t right now.  I need one of the supply bags.  Whichever one had the paper in it.”

            Vince eyed him skeptically.  “Thomas…”

            “No, Vince,” Thomas shook his head.  “I don’t wanna hear it.  I just need paper and a pencil.”

            Vince watched him for another minute before he pointed to a large moving crate to the left that someone was packing bags into.

            Thomas didn’t bother to explain further.  He ran off to the crate.  “Hey,” he nodded at the woman.  “Does one of these bags have paper? Pencils? Anything to write with?”

            She looked at him and then over his shoulder.  A minute later she reached down and pulled a bag from the bottom and passed it to him.

            “Thank you,” he swung the pack over his shoulder and ran back into the building, avoiding Vince’s gaze.  He walked into the room to see the others standing.  “What’s going on?”

            “Thinking we might be best in one of the back rooms,” Newt said quietly.  His eyes flicked over Thomas’ shoulder.

            Thomas turned to see Micah in the distance, eyeing them.  “He’s not gonna do anything,” Thomas said.  “But it might be best to keep this quiet anyway.”    

            “Come on,” Newt nodded off to the side.  “I know a room.”

           

            The room Newt led them to was actually in another building entirely.  There was one large room with a few smaller ones further along the back through crumbled doorways.  The main room was where the focus fell.  There were no windows here which made Thomas think of abandoned garages and old warehouses.  There was a long table set up in the middle and two that were pushed against the far wall, scattered with random odds and ends, tools and junk.  There was a large metal standing shelf that had storage bins of more junk.  Ropes and tarps hung from the ceiling sporadically.  A few small lamps had been set up around the room that Newt turned on.  In the illumination, Thomas could see an array of maps of different places hung on the walls, some colored, some marked up, some completely empty.

            “Jorge found this spot,” Newt explained, clicking the final lamp on.  “He thinks the others were using it as a place to map out where the Safe Haven might actually be.  I thought some of these might help.”

            Thomas looked at Newt to thank him, but Newt dropped his gaze and pulled a barstool over for Aris to sit.  
  
            Thomas unzipped the backpack and unloaded a sheath of paper and tossed a few pencils on the table.  “Alright,” Thomas said as he picked up a pencil and pulled a sheet of paper from the center.  He wrote _“City_ ” at the top.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

            It was about two hours later when Aris shook his head and said he couldn’t remember much else.

            “This is plenty,” Thomas reassured him.  “Thanks, Aris. This is more than we had this morning.” Thomas gestured to the table, now covered with lists and hastily sketched maps.  “This is something we can work with.”

            Aris offered a small smile.  “Glad I could help.  Like I said, anything you need.  Ask.  I’m in.”  Despite how tired he looked, there was something strong in his voice when he said that. 

            “Come on,” Newt said as he slid off the side table that he’d been sitting on.  “Let’s get you into a hammock.  You look like you’re ready to fall off that stool.”

            “I might,” Aris laughed.  As if on cue, he stood and stumbled into the edge of the table.

            “Easy there,” Newt grabbed his arm.  “Come on.”

            Thomas returned Aris’ wave goodbye and watched as Newt walked him out of the garage.  He looked back down at the table, the lists, the maps.

            “What’re you thinking, Thomas?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas shook his head.  “I’m not even sure, Fry.” 

            Brenda and Fry both joined him at the table. 

            “You guys don’t have to stay here,” Thomas said.

            Brenda gave an exaggerated sigh as she dropped down onto Aris’ abandoned barstool.  “Always trying to get rid of me, I swear.”

            “I mean it,” Thomas insisted.  “You both have done enough.”

            “You know,” Frypan began, “Aris mentioned something about underwater irrigation.  Do you think that might have anything to do with the lake you and Newt found in the Mountains?”

            Thomas smiled.  Of course they would be staying.  “It’s a possibility.”

            “He also said they were interrupted and couldn’t go that way,” Brenda shrugged.  “Do you think it had anything to do with that rebel force that was stationed there?”  
            “The North Force?” Thomas asked. 

            “Yeah,” Brenda continued.  “He said it was about three or four months ago.  It’d line up with about the time that WCKD attacked the base camp.”

            Thomas scratched his temple with the eraser of the pencil.  “It’s definitely something to consider.”  He slid another sheet of paper over and scribbled _The North Force_ on it.  He looked back down to the list Frypan was leaning over.  It was a list of things Aris heard about the facility: underwater irrigation, a fourteenth floor, a Red Zone, and Portside Station.

            “What the hell is a Red Zone?” Thomas asked.

            “They created Zones in the Scorch before,” Brenda said, leaning her head on her fist.  “Quarantined zones, infected zones and all.  Maybe it’s something like that?  Maybe the red one is dangerous?”

            “And Portside Station?” Frypan asked her.

            “Got nothing for you there,” she shook her head slowly, never lifting it from her fist.  “I don’t think those four are much to go on. What else do we have?”

            Thomas slid a few more of the papers around.  “They were apparently waiting on a late shipment of beams one day.”

            “Beams?” Brenda asked, looking at Frypan.

            “What kind of beams?”

            “Like a wooden beam?”

            Thomas dragged a hand down his face and slid the paper off to the side next to the other.  “Let’s try a different one.”

            This process went on for the better part of a half hour before Brenda finally stood up.  “Maybe we should take a break.  I don’t think we’re gonna get anywhere if we keep just reading the same lists over and over.  We should do a lap.  Change of scenery or whatever,” she waved a hand as she turned to leave.

            “You guys go ahead,” Thomas said.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”  He slid another piece of paper over.  Scanners on every floor.  Fourteenth floor.  Wherever this facility was, it was tall.  It wouldn’t be hard to miss.  Thomas leaned down on his forearms.  _How did they keep missing it then?_

            Thomas looked up and glanced between Brenda and Frypan, still stood around the table.  “Go ahead,” he repeated.  “I just wanna look through it one more time.”

            Brenda and Frypan exchanged a look before Brenda pulled out the barstool again and sat down.  Frypan pulled another over and got comfortable on it before he spoke.  “He said something about north right?”

            Thomas let a small laugh out.  “Yeah,” he nodded.  “North through the mountains.”

            “Okay,” Frypan said.  “Well let’s start there.”

            Thomas gave him a small smile. They’d stay into the night if they had to.

 

            The background silence was only broken when Brenda brought in one of Newt’s radios. She insisted they might hear something that would point them in the right direction in the midst of the Rebel Recruitment and Rallying.  When that eventually proved more distraction than help, she turned the dial to a silent station with soft static.  Frypan left only once to grab sandwiches, but he was back in about ten minutes.  Brenda left once more and came back with three cups of tea.  Thomas stayed hovered over the table, one pencil behind his ear, another constantly in his hand.  Papers were shuffled around the table between the three of them, hung up on a board on the wall, some even strung up on one of the ropes that stretched across the room. 

            They pulled down the maps that had been placed up there previously and began to mark them up with what they could remember from their travels and what Aris said.  Thomas tried to recall the tracks on the map he’d had and it wasn’t until Brenda sprinted from the room that he paused.

            “What the hell just happened?” Thomas asked.

            Frypan shook his head. “I have no idea.”

            They exchanged another odd look before they both walked through the doorway and into the setting sun.  Brenda was already running back toward them.

            “Just remembered!” she panted.  She pressed a folded, faded piece of paper into Thomas’ hand.  “It’s been stuffed in the glove compartment.”

            Thomas unfolded the map and found his map of the train tracks inside as well.  “Brenda, I could kiss you.”  
  
            “Been there done that,” she said, pushing him back into the building.  “Let’s not.”

            “Where’s Newt?” Frypan asked suddenly.

            Thomas kept his eyes on the maps in his hands.  He’d been asking himself the same question repeatedly between breaths over maps.  Every lull in conversation, every glance around the room, always the same question.  “He brought Aris upstairs to sleep.”

            “Yeah, hours ago,” Brenda said.  “You wanna go check on him?”

            “I think he wanted some time alone,” Thomas said to the map. “Come on, we should compare these tracks to what we have.” 

 

 

            Thomas pushed himself up to where he leaned on the table and swatted a pencil from his arm where it stuck to the sweat. 

            Brenda cricked her head to the side as she stood from the stool and Frypan exhaled long and heavily.

            The three of them looked at each other and then Thomas drew a circle on the map.  He folded it up.  “Let’s go get the others.”

            Brenda went off in search of Jorge, Frypan disappeared to find Vince, and it was Thomas who skirted his way through hammocks looking for Newt.  When he didn’t find him there, he went outside.  He hesitated in the mouth of the alleyway, staring at the space where the truck had once been. 

            “Jorge moved it,” Newt said.

            Thomas flinched and turned to see Newt standing a bit off to the side, a small mug in his hands that steamed in the night air.

            “He moved it up the ramp,” he nodded to a platform a few feet away.  “Said he wanted to work on getting It in shape in case others came across it and needed it.”

            Thomas looked up to the platform and saw the truck parked in the darkness.  He turned back to Newt.  “I was just looking for you.”

            “I know,” Newt said.  “I heard Brenda looking for Jorge.  Figured I’d just come find you myself.”

            “We think we found where Minho might be.”

            Newt looked down to the mug in his hands. His chest rose with the inhale.  “Alright, let’s see it then.”

            Thomas watched Newt a moment more before he led the way into the garage.   He rounded the table and waited for the others to join him.  Vince, not too thrilled to be called in this late at night in the first place, stepped up across from Thomas clutching the tea that Frypan bribed him with.  Thomas made room for Newt next to him at the table, but Newt only walked over to his radio, shifted the knob a bit to no avail and then turned to lean on the side of the table.

            “Alright,” Vince nodded.  “Let’s have it.”

            Thomas looked back at Vince and then pulled the map from his pocket. He spread it out on the table for Vince to see and pointed at the circle he drew.  “There, that’s it. It’s a few hundred miles, but based on the railways, everything that Aris told us, that’s gotta be where they’re headed. That’s where they’re taking Minho.”  He looked between Newt and Vince.  “We take everyone who can fight, follow the roads where we can.  We can make it back within a week.”  
  
            “A week,” Vince repeated, skeptical. “It took us six months to get here. We got over a hundred kids here now.  We can’t just hang out here forever.  After what we just pulled? You wanna wander off to some random point on the map? You don’t even know what’s there.”

            “I do.”

            Thomas turned to the side to where Jorge leaned in the crumbled doorway. 

            “It’s been a few years but,” Jorge started walking forward into the room, “I’ve been there.  _The Last City_.  That’s what WCKD called it.  It was their whole base of operations.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at Jorge.

            “If that city is still standing,” he continued, “that’s the last place you wanna go, _hermano._   That’s the lion’s den.”

            Thomas ignored the way his leg bounced beneath the table.  “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

            “Yeah with months of planning,” Vince said, drawing Thomas’ attention back to him.  “Reliable information. The element of surprise. None of which we have now.”

            Thomas dropped his head.  “Vince, I’ve thought this through, okay?”

            “Hey-”

            “-would you just hear me ou-”

            “-last time we went off half-cocked, I lost everything!” Vince pressed. “You remember that?”

            Thomas dropped his gaze.  Flashes of The Right Arm, Mary, Joe, and dozens of others spun through his head.  He blinked them back and looked up at Vince. 

            “Look, I know it’s Minho, alright?” Vince said, softly. “But you can’t ask me to put those kids on the line for one man.  I won’t do it.”

            Silence settled between them.  Silence and buzzing.

            Thomas turned to the side where Newt’s radio suddenly caught signal. A voice came through the static from some station they’d managed to pick up. 

            _“…earching the grid now……is completed……..Scanning B-Sector now…”_

Thomas caught Brenda’s eye as a low rumbling sounded in the distance.  That wasn’t the Rebel Station.  That was a communications radio.  WCKD tracked the berg.  They were coming.

            “Shit,” Thomas pushed off the table.  “Hit the lights.”

            The group scattered, hitting switches, pulling cords.  Someone reached the electricity lever and the power flickered down behind Thomas as he ran outside, Vince on his heels.  He looked out over the dock and watched as several more lights went out throughout the buildings.  He turned and immediately found what he was looking for.  In the distance, two bergs flew with searchlights scanning below. 

            “Jeez,” Vince breathed out.  “They’re getting close.”

            Thomas watched them, fear gripping his chest.  Everything Vince said replayed in Thomas’ mind.  WCKD knowing they were around now, the tracker in the berg they stole, the train-car WCKD would soon pick up on their scanners.  They would find them.  And it was going to happen soon.  He swallowed.  “You’re right,” he said.  “We can’t stay here.”  He pulled his gaze from the bergs and looked at Vince.  He gave him a small nod before he looked back at the bergs.

            Vince reached out and gripped Thomas’ shoulder before he walked back inside.

            Thomas looked back up at the lights, circling in the distance.  His breath came shallow and the lights blended together into one.  He closed his eyes and opened them again but the lights swam.  He inhaled what air he could. 

            Vince was right, they had to leave.  There was no more time.  It was the Safe Haven or risk them all being captured again.  Risk Newt, Frypan, Harriet.  Risk Aris and Sonya again. 

            Thomas grabbed his chest, pulling at his shirt and swallowing, trying to get as much air as he could.  He choked out a breath and slowly, slowly, he paced his breathing again.  His vision cleared, the water lapping the docks was no longer a muffled sound in the distance.  He inhaled a full breath, and on the exhale, he apologized to Minho.

 

            Thomas walked back into the garage, rubbing the corners of his eyes.  When he dropped his hand, he saw that the others had all dispersed by now.  All except one.  “Newt?”  
  
            Newt turned from where he stood staring at the maps and routes pinned to the board and hanging from the ropes.  He shifted his hands a bit, but kept his arms folded across his chest.  “Vince told everyone to get some sleep.  Said we’d reconvene in the morning to discuss the Safe Haven.”  He turned back to the maps.

            Something in Thomas’ chest sank at the thought, but he reminded himself that this was the only option they had now.  There would be no rescue.  He looked up to Newt again.  “What’re you still doing here?”  
  
            It was a moment before Newt responded.  There was a quiet stillness to the air around them, the only sound the lapping of the water and soft static from the radio.  Newt’s eyes continued to scan the wall as he spoke.  “It looks just like the Map Room.  Doesn’t it?”

            Thomas looked from Newt to the walls.  He eyed the hanging maps and diagrams, notes scribbled in corners and lists with train patterns and schedules.

            “I mean,” Newt continued, “there’s no miniature model of the Scorch, but…” his words trailed off as he continued looking at the wall.

            Thomas took a slow step forward and then another until he was standing next to Newt, looking at the maps.

            “Minho was the first one to map the Maze, did you know that?”

            Thomas turned to meet Newt’s eyes.  “No.”

            Newt nodded, eyes flicking between Thomas’ own.  He turned back to the maps.  “He started the Runners.  I mean, sure, we’d all gone a bit into the Maze, curiosity and all, but we never really made it far.  He was the first one who really brought us in there.  Who started realizing that it even was a Maze.”  Newt paused, but his eyes didn’t stop roving over the maps.  “He was the first one who realized there might be a way out.”

            Thomas pulled his gaze from Newt in favor of mapping the cracks in the ground below them.  “I tried, Newt.”  He felt his heart beat slow in his chest against his ribs.  His nerves vibrated beneath his skin and something that had been relaxed inside of him pulled taut for the first time in a long time. 

            Thomas recognized it.  He remembered it.

            “I know,” Newt responded softly.

            Thomas looked up at him.

            “We tried a lot of things,” Newt added. 

            Thomas felt that same stretch inside of his chest.  He watched Newt’s eyes glaze over, no longer looking at the maps but at something only he could see.  They stood in the quiet for another moment until Newt blinked himself back.  He turned to face Thomas.  “This won’t work.”

            Thomas felt his eyes narrow a fraction, his head spinning with questions.

            Newt shook his head.  “I can’t do this.  I can’t… be in this fully with him still out there.”

            Thomas turned a bit more to face Newt.  “What are you saying?”

            “It just doesn’t feel right,” Newt shook his head.

            “Newt,” Thomas blinked, his heart beat twice as fast to keep up with his thoughts as they sprinted through his head.  “I don’t… I know that he’s gone, but I don’t…” Thomas trailed off, not knowing where to even end his sentence. 

            “Tommy, it can’t work.”

            Thomas tried to speak, but no words would come.

            Newt continued, voice heavy, “I can’t just let myself go on like this while giving up on him. I won’t.”

            At a loss for any words at all, Thomas reached out to Newt’s hand but paused when Newt took a small step back.  Thomas blinked his gaze away from Newt.  Colors swam in his vision.

            “I’m sorry,” Newt continued.  “But it doesn’t feel right.  And I can’t be in this fully with you if part of me is always going to resent myself for leaving him behind.”  
  
            Thomas shook his head.  “I just… I don’t understand what this has to…” He tried to inhale. 

            “Please,” Newt said quietly.  “Please try to understand that it’s nothing you did.”

            Thomas’ chest continued to contract around his lungs.  They folded inward, all air being siphoned from him.

            “I just can’t help feeling some type of guilt,” Newt said somewhere next to him.  “Every time I think of… He was supposed to be here. And we-” his sentence ended abruptly on shortened breath. “He’s with WCKD, Tommy.  And I can’t sit here and be okay and move forward with you when part of me is always going to be stuck on that.”

            Thomas felt the stretch inside of him pull more.  He felt it pull against his lungs, compressing them further.  His veins were tightening, nerves fraying beneath his skin. 

            “Please understand, Tommy,” Newt’s voice trailed in from somewhere. “I wish it were different.  But this has to end.”

            Whatever was stretching and pulling at Thomas’ chest gave out and fell away.  The sound rushed back to Thomas in an instant.  Soft static from the radio buzzed, the water lapped against the docks. He kept his eyes trained on the corner of the table and took in what air he could.  “You can go.”

            There was a soft barely-there brush of knuckles against his.

            And then uneven footsteps echoed in the garage.

            And then there was only silence.

            And then it was only Thomas.

           

 

 

 

            The maps ruffled in whatever breeze snuck in through the open garage door.  The chill crept up Thomas’ arms and neck. 

            _Please understand, Tommy._

Thomas dragged his eyes from the table up to the maps on the wall.  Sketched lines, overlapping tracks and trails, borders and mountains.  They blended in and out of memories of pencil on paper beneath sun streaming through broken slats of a hut, sweat and clover hanging in the air.  Rustling and rounding corners to hang sections up next to one another.  The sounds of leather harnesses tossed into an open chest, watches left to the wooden tables next to holsters.  Scrambled sentences and talking over one another in excitement when Maze corridors met in their sketches.  Laughter and hope as they barreled through the notes.  The cracks in odd patterns on the walls that lead to the thicker string of ivy next to the crumbled rocks.  The hugs and handshakes, early breakfasts and pounding footsteps on stone.

            Thomas blinked himself back to the silent darkness of the garage.  He took one step back and another until he pulled himself away from the maps and pencils.  He backed away from the notes left scattered on the table.  The map with The Last City circled on it.  He turned and left the garage and everything inside of it behind.

 

            The hammock’s angle gave Thomas an ache in his neck, no matter how many times he scooted up or down.  He turned completely around to try the other side, but to no avail.  His head swam.  He reminded himself it was only two nights.  Two nights and they’d be headed to the Safe Haven and this would be behind him.  The Maze, The Scorch, WCKD.  It would all be behind him.

            Thomas rolled onto his back.  Of course, it would never really be behind him.  It was all he knew.  Every memory he had was WCKD.  He thought of what Aris had said about WCKD giving memories back to the immunes.  He wondered how many of them had their memories back.  He wondered if Minho did and if that would make it better or worse. 

            Thomas rolled over onto his other side.  He didn’t know why he bothered.  He wouldn’t be getting sleep.  Not next to the hammock that still hung empty hours later. 

            _I wish it were different_.

            It shouldn’t have mattered.  They’d gotten through everything together in the past six months.  But then, there was hope in those months.  There was a part of them that thought – that was convinced – they would have Minho back at the end of this all.  Thomas thought back to six months ago, back when they were still in the Right Arm.  It’d seemed nearly impossible then, but there was still a chance.  That determination won them over all those months ago, and now he could only wonder when it had gone.  Was it his fault? His mistake?  His lack of focus at the train cars?

            If he’d just listened a bit more and didn’t rush…

            If he’d chosen the other train car…

            If he had taken just a moment longer to listen…

            Thomas pulled himself of from his hammock and ran a hand down his face.  It didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter what might have happened – what could have happened – because it was over.  There was no changing what happened and now he was off to the Safe Haven to live with it.

            _But this has to end._

            Thomas slid out of his hammock, deliberately avoided the empty one, and pulled his boots on.  If he wasn’t getting sleep, he might as well do something productive.  Maybe there was packing to be done, maybe there was sorting.  There had to be something.

            Thomas knew there had to be more to this.  It couldn’t just be guilt of leaving Minho behind.  Thomas felt that too, but to use that against _them_.  To take the one good thing they had and push it aside because of this.  It shouldn’t have mattered.  It shouldn’t have ended.  Not when they made it this far. 

            And Thomas had tried, hadn’t he?  He’d spent hours over maps and in dusted tunnels.  He’d spent weeks in the Scorch under the heat in sand.  He’d dragged himself through caves, mountains and battles.  Hadn’t he almost made it?

            Thomas yanked the laces of his boots tight.  He’d jumped from cars to trains, he’d dislocated a shoulder, he’d stolen from WCKD.

            Thomas finished lacing and leaned forward on his knees.  He’d gotten Joe’s leg broken. He’d gotten Joe…  He’d wasted time in the Scorch making a house of broken buildings and rusted trucks.  He’d nearly gotten himself lost in an abandoned town, stormed a facility half gone, nearly gotten his friends captured again.  Nearly gotten Frypan killed.  He’d run them into a Crank-infested battlefield and through poisoned trees.  He’d spent time wandering a forest instead of finding a cure.  He’d spent time wrapped in thin arms without noticing the shadows growing around him.  He got distracted.  He made mistakes.

            And now he would have to live with them.

            Thomas ran a hand through his hair.  Maybe Newt was right.  Maybe there would be no living with this.  Not the way they wanted to.  Not the way they could have.  The Safe Haven would be a new start, yes, but it didn’t mean everything they left behind disappeared.  Minho would still be out there.  Minho would still be left behind.

            Thomas would have Newt, but not the way Newt should be.  He would have a shell of him, the shadow that had taken him over in the last week or so.  And maybe that’s what Newt meant.  Maybe that’s why he had made this decision.

            And maybe that’s why Thomas made his.

            He pushed himself up and snatched his jacket from the chair he’d slung it on.  Maybe it was useless, maybe there was nothing good that would come of this, but Thomas _did_ know one thing.  He knew that there was no way he’d be able to stay in the Safe Haven.  There was no way he’d be able to watch Newt tear himself apart with guilt.  There was no way he’d be able to live with that guilt himself. He pulled his backpack up from the floor and stood for a moment as it hung by his side. 

            The hammock next to his own was empty and it was with a pain in his chest that he realized that this was it.  That there wouldn’t be a goodbye.  He knew Newt was somewhere off on his own, but even if he found him, would Newt let him go?  Both answers clawed at Thomas. 

            No, it would be best without any goodbyes at all.

            They would understand, in the end, that he couldn’t go with them.  And they would know it wasn’t only because of Newt.  When Thomas thought about it, being in the Safe Haven without Minho was pain enough on its own.  There would be no Safe Haven for Thomas without knowing he’d done everything he could.  Going to this _last city_ was his final chance and this time he wasn’t going to bring the others into his plan again.  He would do this on his own. 

            He exhaled and he walked.

            The hallway from the hammock room to the exit seemed to grow.  The shadows on the wall grew darker and his own melted into them.  Maybe he would leave that behind too.

            He eyed the kitchen, but when he didn’t see the keys, he didn’t stop.  He jogged up the stairs to the upper platform.  Fran taught him to hotwire once.  If he focused enough, he coul-

            “Where do you think you’re going, then?”

            Thomas slowed to a stop and looked up as a small light clicked on in front of him.  Newt stood in front of Joe’s truck, eyes set on Thomas.

            Thomas pushed back the sting of seeing Newt for the first time since the map room, and dropped his arms to his side, chest sinking.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  He was supposed to leave without a word.  “Newt,” he started.

            “Don’t be a twat about it,” Newt said, a small hint of a smile in his voice at an old joke.  He walked forward to Thomas.  “I’m already in.”  He pulled the backpack from Thomas’ hand. “Come on,” he said as he turned back to the truck. 

            Thomas felt his chest tighten.  “No,” he said, voice stronger than he felt.  He walked after Newt. “No, not this time.” 

            Newt reached the truck and tossed the bag into the backseat before he turned back to Thomas. 

            “Look,” Thomas continued.  “Even if we find Minho, there’s no guarantee we make it back from this.”

            Newt nodded.  “Well, you’ll need all the help you can get then, won’t you?” He turned to the front door and yanked it open.

            Thomas tilted his head to look inside and his breath shallowed as Frypan leaned over the steering wheel.

            Newt leaned back on the truck and folded his arms, a small smirk growing on his face.

            Thomas’ heart stuttered at it and he couldn’t stop the breathy laugh that escaped him.  Of course they were here.  He should have known.  He looked back up at Newt, a million things running through his head.

            “Well, we started this together,” Newt said softly. “May as well end it that way, too.”

            Thomas felt his throat tighten, but he managed a small smile through it. It was in the way that Newt looked at him, the way the tension in the air between them dropped, that made Thomas realize that statement was more than words.  Thomas knew there was more beneath them, between them.  His chest loosened for the first time in hours.  “Okay,” he nodded. “Let’s go get him back.”

            Newt’s mouth quirked up in a smile.  “Fight for shotgun?”

            Thomas felt relief soar through him.  He took a step forward.  “Newt, I-”

            “-you can take it,” Newt said, cutting him off.  “Besides,” he dug something out of his pocket and pressed it into Thomas’ hand.  “It’s your plan we’re going with.”

            Thomas unfolded the map where he circled the last city.  He looked up to Newt.  “I don’t know if this is a definite.”

            Newt considered him for a moment.  “When has that stopped us before?”  He pushed off of the truck and pulled the door open.  “Go ahead,” he nodded to the front.  “Shotgun’s yours.”

            “Thanks, Newt,” Thomas said, holding his gaze.

            Newt watched him for a moment longer before he smiled and slid into the truck. 

            Thomas walked around the truck, map clutched in his hand.  He slid into the passenger seat and Frypan turned the key to start the car up.  Thomas let the small laugh break through.  He should have known he wouldn’t find the keys in the building.  He didn’t know when Newt took them, when he grabbed Frypan.  He didn’t know when Newt came out here to the truck.  He didn’t know how long Newt had waited here.  He didn’t know how Newt knew that Thomas wouldn’t be able to give in, and that he would leave in the night on his own. 

            And mostly, Thomas didn’t know what their plan was.  He didn’t know how long it would actually take them to get there.  He didn’t know if Minho would definitely be there.  He didn’t know what state they might find Minho in if they did find him at all.  He didn’t know how they would make it back, or if they even would make it back.  He didn’t know what Vince would do in the morning when he found out the three of them were gone.  He didn’t know what Brenda and Jorge would do.  He didn’t know what Harriet, Josh and the others would do. 

            But what Thomas did know was that the three of them were together.  He knew that Frypan was here, driving headfirst into the unknown.  He knew that Newt was here with him, stretched out in the backseat watching the docks and buildings pass by.  And Thomas knew that he was on his way, that he was making the only decision he could.  He knew that despite everything, he still had Newt by his side.

            And Thomas knew they would be fine. 

            At the end of it all, they were still Newt and Thomas.

 

 

            The drive took hours and brought them into the light of the morning. They drove through fields of dead grass, hills and dust.  There were very few pit stops, and when there were, they were back on the road within ten minutes.  Thomas continued to scan the map in his lap as if he didn’t have it completely memorized.  Eventually, he got frustrated enough that he folded it and put it up on the dashboard to keep from staring at it.  And they drove on.

            It was when they reached the first sign that Thomas started to get hopeful.  A Mandatory Infection Check marked two miles ahead.  There were a few broken-down cars on the side of the road as they continued, and the number increased as they drove closer.

            Frypan slowed the truck down at a split in the road.  “Thomas?”

            Thomas squinted out of the truck and down both roads.  One curved left, the other branched out to the right.  His hand twitched for the map, but he didn’t need it.  “Left.”

            And they drove on.

            The road dipped low after a while and they drove through a small rundown path.  There were broken buildings here, covered in moss and leaves.  Wires were strung up along poles and some had snapped and fallen down, coiling on the ground below.  They drove deeper down the road until they reached a lot crowded with abandoned, broken cars.  Another building sat in the corner hidden by moss, leaves and mold. Straight ahead was a tunnel through the mountain.  Thomas pushed the thought of the last mountain tunnel out of his head.  There wouldn’t be a cave-in.  There couldn’t be.  Not again.

            Still, Frypan slowed the truck to a stop.  “Is this right?”

            “I think so.” Thomas reached forward and grabbed the map before he pushed the door open. He looked around him at the chain-link fence, the faded signs, the rust.  An old inspection zone that had been put out of use a long time ago.  He turned forward to see that Newt had walked up to the tunnel, eyeing it.

            Newt looked back at him and pointed to the tunnel.  “You want us to go in there?”

            Thomas walked forward and eyed the map again.  He didn’t see any sign of a tunnel on his map.  It should have just been a road straight through.  But that road on the right, that definitely wasn’t the way.  It had to be this.  His nerves buzzed.

            “I don’t wanna come across as too negative,” Newt continued, “but, I mean, if I was a Crank that’s exactly where I would be.”

            Thomas looked up to the tunnel.  It was dark and damp, abandoned and quiet.  Thomas swallowed Newt’s words and looked back down at the map.  “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”  He looked at the map a moment more to avoid Newt’s gaze, but eventually folded it up and looked back at the tunnel.  There were so many things that could go wrong here.  A cave-in, Cranks, putting them completely out of their way.

            “Alright, I get shotgun,” Newt said as he walked back to the truck.

            Despite his worry, Thomas was able to breathe a bit at Newt’s jabs.  Somehow, they eased his nerves.  They would get through this, whatever was in there.  They’d get through it like they always have.

            Thomas walked back to the truck and slid into the backseat, not missing the way Newt smirked up at him from the passenger’s seat.  Frypan shifted gears and then they were driving into the tunnel. 

            They truck jolted this way and that as they hit small dips in the road.  “Still loving those potholes, aren’t you, Fry?” Newt laughed.

            “It’s dark in here,” Frypan defended.

            “Almost as if we don’t have headlights,” Newt mumbled.

            A moment later, Frypan turned them on.  The tunnel curved to the right and soon, even the light from outside was gone.  Thomas stilled his leg and slid into the middle of the bench to look out of the windshield.

            “Go ahead,” Newt nodded at Frypan, “flip the lever there.”

            The tunnel illuminated immediately in the glow of the truck’s lights.  Newt turned over his shoulder to look at Thomas.  “Lights don’t seem like such a bad idea now, do they, Tommy?”  

            Thomas held his gaze another minute before huffing a laugh and rolling his eyes. “Let’s just get through this.”

            Newt’s smirk grew before he reached forward into the glove compartment.  He rustled around and then Thomas heard a click.  Newt stuck his arm out of the window with a flashlight.

            “Ridiculous,” Thomas laughed under his breath.

            “Say what you’d like,” Newt mumbled back.  “There’s one under your seat, too.”

            Thomas bit down on his smile as he reached beneath his seat and, sure enough, found a flashlight of his own.  He turned it on.

            “Well,” Frypan said, “here we go.”  
  
            “Just take it nice and slow,” Newt said, shining the light along the walls.

            Abandoned cars filled the tunnel, some smashed in to the walls, some smashed into each other.  Frypan worked his way throughout them, weaving in and out of the available spaces.  They drove like this for a few minutes, and Thomas just started to wonder how long the tunnel would be when his eyes caught something in the headlights.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, scooting forward on the bench.

            Frypan shifted and hit the brakes and the truck gave a slow screech to a halt.

            The three of them looked forward through the windshield and into the light.  And there, ahead of them, standing lopsided in front of a broken-down car, was a single Crank.

           

                       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Nearly there!
> 
> 1\. Aris’ Story - Filled it a lot here. In the movie Aris talks a bit about the city, but they cut the convo off and the next time we see the group, Thomas already has a plan mapped out and it’s night time. So this is mostly my take on the gap there. A bit of backstory for what information Aris gave them. Also, a bit on Sonya and what WCKD might have been doing to the kids. Also, some hints on what might have been happening to Minho. Why he wasn’t on the train, etc.  
> 2\. Have some Thomas/Frypan/Brenda time!!  
> 3\. Newt’s Decision - I’m sorry. I really am. But Newt had to be honest with Thomas. He said he couldn’t give Thomas 100% of himself when he’s constantly overdrawn with guilt from leaving Minho behind. He doesn’t want to put Thomas through that. So he had to make a call.  
> 4\. Thomas’ Decision - We all know that Thomas eventually decides to go after Minho, but why does he attempt to go on his own? Here’s my little bit of reasoning on that (and also Thomas’ habit to just go off on his own as he has multiple times in the past..) Also, have Newt and Frypan waiting in the dark for him lmao there’s….a reason for that too.  
> 5\. Newt and Thomas - At the end of the day, they are always Newt and Thomas. No matter what they go through. Even deciding to hold off on what relationship they’d formed won’t keep them from being the team we know them to be. And, of course, Newt’s always gonna have his back. And in order to make sure Thomas understood that, Newt found little ways to tell him - small jokes, gestures, etc.  
> 6\. The Crank tunnel! Woooooo we made it.
> 
>  
> 
> So, now that we’re officially in TDC Territory, I just want to remind you all that, since we’ve all seen the movie, I’m not going to be writing out every scene. It’s just redundant and I don’t think anyone actually wants to READ a movie. That being said, the next chapter is going to skip around a bit. It’s going to be gap scenes set between ones that we see in the movie. I do have plans to have two or three of them actually written out, if only to explain some connection, but other than that, there will be a lot of time skips in it.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like how I’m going about this! Gets kind of tricky here.
> 
> Thank you again so much for the support on this story <3 You are all absolutely amazing and each and every one of you who has read this story mean so much to me. 
> 
> See you all Sunday!


	35. On Reveals and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Thomas Makes One Last Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mild descriptions of depression.

 

            Thomas’ fist was swinging before he even thought about it.  The concrete bit into his knees, there was a stinging scrape on his back from shrapnel and colors spotted his vision. For a brief moment, all he could see was red cheeks and curly hair. His knuckles whitened on the collar of Gally’s uniform and his shoulder protested as he pulled his arm back again.

            A hand stopped his fist. “Stop! Stop it!”

            Thomas’ vision continued to flash as he looked down on Gally, stone-faced looking back at him.

            “Stop,” Newt repeated.

            Thomas could feel himself shaking, his arm rattled in Newt’s grip, but his focus was elsewhere.  It was in a cool, dark building; air blowing through dusted vents.  Abandoned work stations, cracked glass, rust.  A gunshot.  “He killed Chuck.”

            “I know,” Newt said. “I remember. I was there too, all right?  But I also remember that he was stung and half out of his mind.”

            Thomas continued to look down on Gally, but Gally made no attempt to move.  He stayed and he waited, mouth set in a line.

            Newt’s voice came softer, closer to Thomas as his vision slowly cleared.  There was a small, comforting squeeze on his arm.   “Just calm down alright? Come on.”

            Thomas took a breath.  Another hand reached out to his other shoulder as he considered the option of swinging once more.  If he didn’t move now, he never would.  He pushed off of the ground and away from all of the hands reaching out to him.  He backed up in line with Brenda and the others, never taking his eyes from Gally.

            Gally worked his jaw a bit as he lifted himself up.  “Kinda had that coming.”  Thomas nearly lunged again, but Gally looked at the others. “Anybody else? Fry? Newt?”

            Thomas strained himself from moving forward and punching the name from Gally’s mouth.

            “Do you know this guy?” Jorge asked suddenly from behind him.

            Thomas considered different answers, but thankfully didn’t have to voice them.

            “He was an old friend,” Frypan explained.

            “How?” Newt asked, shaking his head. “How is this possible?  We watched you die.”

            “No, you left me to die,” Gally said.  He stared at Newt as if daring him to object.  When he didn’t, Gally continued.  “And if we hadn’t found you when we did,” he shifted his gaze to Thomas, “you’d be dead right now.”

            Thomas didn’t let himself speak, didn’t trust himself to. The group stood in silence. Men Thomas didn’t recognize stationed themselves behind Gally holding guns, dressed in masks and protective gear.  What the hell was he doing here?

            “What the hell are you doing here?” Gally asked.

            Thomas clenched his jaw.

            “Minho,” Newt answered. “WCKD has him here.  We’re looking for a way in.”

            Thomas resisted the urge to stop Newt from giving Gally too much information.  He didn’t need to know why they were there at all.  He didn’t need to know where Minho was.  He didn’t need to know anything.  Thomas looked at Gally and caught the way that he froze at Newt’s words.

            And then Gally moved again, eyes flicking to Thomas briefly before he spoke to Newt.  “I can help with that,” he nodded.  “Follow me.”

            “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Thomas finally spoke up.

            Gally looked back at him.  “Suit yourself,” he sighed. “But I can get you through those walls.”  He looked at Newt.

            Thomas eyed him for another moment, refusing to look away. He considered the option of trusting Gally and then immediately kicked it out of his mind again.

            “Could you give us a minute?” Newt asked Gally.

            Gally nodded, but Thomas shook his head. “I don’t need a minute.  We’re not going with you.”  
  
            “Thomas,” Newt started quietly.  “Let’s think about this.”

            “What’s there to think about?” Thomas said, finally tearing his eyes from Gally to look at Newt.

            Newt stepped closer to him and spoke even lower.  “He’s got a way in.  We should at least hear him out.”

            “Newt,” Thomas shook his head.  “I can’t go anywhere with him.  He ki-”

            “I know what he did, Thomas,” Newt continued.  “But Minho is in there and if Gally can get us closer, why shouldn’t we try?”

            Thomas shifted his stance.

            “You worked with Micah,” Newt said, his voice practically a whisper.

            “Micah didn’t kill anyone.”

            “That you know of,” Newt added.  “You’re saying you trust him over Gally?”

            Thomas worked his jaw.

            “Tommy,” Newt said, a light brush of knuckles against Thomas’ bruised ones, “it’s Minho.”

            Thomas swallowed.  He finally looked up at Newt. “Fine,” he said on the tail of a sigh.  “But the minute things go south-”

            “-we leave,” Newt finished for him.  He stepped back.

            Thomas looked up at Gally whose stare was set on the ground, brows furrowed.

            “What’s your way in?” Thomas asked.

            Gally looked up at him and Newt.  “Come on,” he beckoned them to follow.  He nodded to a few of the guards who backed up and relaxed trigger fingers.

            Thomas eyed them as he walked past and fell into step behind Gally.

 

            Gally led them through the dusted building.  Squared balconies overlooked the center which dropped down to a basement floor.  It had to have been four or five stories tall.  They walked through dozens of people, weaving in and out of each other – all eyes set on them.

            Thomas cricked his neck to the side and willed his discomfort to settle. He looked up and saw others peering down on them over the balconies.  There were whispers around them, someone waved, someone leered.  Thomas rolled his shoulders as they made their way down a small ramp.

            “What happened to you?” Frypan asked suddenly.

            Gally turned over his shoulder to look at him briefly and then faced forward again, tugging at the strap of his gun.  “After the Maze, I got picked up by a group headed to the city,” he explained. “They realized I was immune, patched me up and they brought me here to Lawrence.”

            Thomas kept his eyes on him.  He didn’t ask questions, didn’t give in.  He didn’t know who Lawrence was and he didn’t care.  He only waited for Gally to give him answers. They rounded a corner on the landing and walked through another mix of people.  They hoisted guns, strapped bullets to their chests and wore gear that was enough to make Thomas sweat just looking at. 

            “This group’s been at war with WCKD ever since they took control of the city,” Gally continued, nodding toward them.  “But WCKD can’t hide behind those walls forever. The day’s gonna come and they’re gonna pay.”  

            A man eyed Thomas as he walked past and then he turned abruptly to a desk on the side, scattering maps around its surface.  Thomas ignored the urge to pause and scan them.  He faced Gally again but he seemed done with any explanation.  He paused and looked off to the side.  Thomas followed his gaze but couldn’t tell what Gally was looking at.  There was a doorway at the end of the row, but Thomas couldn’t see inside. 

            “Listen,” Gally started.  “He doesn’t get a lot of visitors, so let me do the talking, alright?”  He eyed Thomas, but Thomas pulled his gaze away and looked back toward the doorway.  “Try not to stare,” Gally added as he led the way.

            Thomas paused and watched Gally walk.  He turned back to the others and caught Newt’s confused gaze.  _Stare at…what?_

***  
  
            Shaking Lawrence’s hand felt an awful lot like signing a deal he wanted no part of.  But then, Thomas had broken promises before.

            “Gally,” Lawrence said, never taking his eyes from Thomas.  “Show him the way.”

            Thomas heard footsteps, but refused to pull his gaze away. 

            Lawrence tilted his head upward just a bit.  “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

            Thomas shook his head.  “Do I need to?”

            Lawrence watched him another moment before he smiled a tilted smile.  “Enjoy the tour.”  He turned and made his way back to the other end of the room, wheels rattling on the concrete floor.

            “Thomas,” Newt said. 

            Thomas pulled himself away from Lawrence and walked to the group.  “Let’s go.”

            Gally eyed him for a moment before he led them out of the door and down another corridor.

 

            “We won’t be able to get moving until nightfall.  It’s too risky during the daylight,” Gally explained as they walked.  “Cameras and military all over.  And as you saw, they don’t take lightly to anyone wandering the streets.  Especially when the scanners are picking you all up.”

            “Scanners?” Brenda asked.

            Gally turned back and glanced at her before facing forward again.  “The chips that were put in our necks.”  He punctuated this to a tap on the back of his own where Thomas saw the familiar lines marking their tags.  Easy tracking for WCKD to find them.

            “When did security get this tight?” Frypan asked.

            “Always been,” Gally shrugged.  “As long as I’ve been here, anyway.  And nobody seemed too surprised by it.  Guess it’s been this way for a long time.”

            “And how long have you been here?” Newt asked.

            There was a pause before Gally answered.  He led them around a corner and down another walkway.  “Long enough to know when it’s safe.  There are a few rooms up here you guys can crash in.  You look like hell run over twice, so feel free to take the rest.  Got about two more hours til sundown.”  Gally paused in a doorway and pointed inside.  “All yours.  There’s a center room here and a small hallway in the back with a few spare rooms.”

            “Where are you going?” Frypan asked.

            Gally shrugged.  “I’ll be around.”  
  
            Thomas eyed the room.  There was a round table in the center.  Maps hung throughout the room. There were more papers and maps scattered on the table as well.

            “Don’t mind the mess,” Gally said.  “We used to use this room for tracking WCKD.  Keeping notes on where they were and what schedules they had.”

            Thomas walked slowly into the room and scanned over the pages.  Train schedules, lists of cargo and supplies, lists of Rebel Forces with four crossed out.  He turned and looked up at Gally.  “You’re Rebel Radio.”

            Gally quirked an eyebrow.

            “On the station,” Thomas clarified.  “Recruiting people to fight against WCKD, telling everyone about the rebel bases and cargo moving.”

            Gally rolled his shoulders.  “Didn’t think anyone was listening.”  
  
            “We were,” Frypan spoke up.  “Others were, out in the Scorch.  They followed your reports on the trains.”  
  
            Gally nodded.  “Would’ve been nice to see some of them.  Numbers have been shrinking here instead of growing.  WCKD’s been doubling their forces just as quickly and we’re running out of options here.”

            “Options?” Thomas asked.

            “To bring down WCKD.”

            Thomas eyed him for a moment. 

            Newt coughed somewhere off to the side.  “You said there were rooms in the back?”

            Gally turned to him.  “Yeah.  Back hallway.”

            “Good that,” Newt nodded and slid between the two of them into the room.

            Thomas fought the urge to follow. 

            “Figure out who’s coming with you tonight,” Gally nodded to Thomas.

            “I will,” Newt said from where he’d stopped at the table to look through some of the papers.

            Thomas looked over at him, a bit of relief seeping into his muscles.

            “Alright,” Gally nodded.  “See you shanks in two hours.”  He pushed off the doorjamb and made his way back through the building. 

            “Okay,” Brenda shook her head.  “Who is that now?”

            Frypan shook his head.  “I thought he was dead.”

            “We all did,” Newt murmured from the table.

            “He was in the Maze with you guys?”

             The two of them nodded.

            Thomas walked up next to Newt and looked down at the scattered pages.  “I can’t believe he’s been part of this rebel group the whole time.”  
  
            Newt nodded.  “Makes sense.”

            Thomas looked up at him.  “Does it?”  From what he could remember of Gally, the guy did nothing but cause issues and disruptions. 

            “Seems like the person he is now,” Brenda said, looking over her shoulder in the direction Gally walked.

            “I think he’s right about getting rest,” Newt said. “Been nearly two nights without.”

            “I don’t think I’ll be able to get much,” Thomas shook his head as he scanned another page with a list of names Thomas didn’t recognize.

            “it’d be nice to find some food around here at least,” Jorge murmured.  “Get some strength in you guys.”

            Newt rolled his shoulders and shrugged his jacket off.  He rested it on the chair and pulled a small bag from around him.  “It’s not much,” he said as he tossed it onto the table, “but there are a few small rolls in there.”

            Brenda pulled at the straps and upended the bag.  Three small rolls fell out accompanied by a knife, spare bullets and something else that Newt swiped up that Thomas didn’t catch. 

            He looked at Newt but Newt only tucked his hands in his pockets and cricked his neck as he spoke. “I’m claiming one of those rooms.  Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

           

***

 

            Seeing the city was one thing. 

            Blurs of electric blue light surrounding them and reflecting through glass buildings and off of wet pavement – that was one thing.

            Trains like metallic bullets making the world shake around Thomas was one thing.

            Revolving doors, crowds of people. Uniforms, security systems, scrolling marquees on buildings reminding them that _WCKD is good_ was one thing.

 

            But seeing Teresa…

 

            Seeing Teresa was another thing entirely. 

            Thomas supposed he should have been prepared.  Part of him deep down knew she would be there.  Knew she would be helping WCKD and working for them.  When Newt had brought her up hours ago, her name dripped through Thomas’ veins like poison. 

 

            But _seeing_ her.

 

            Black wavy hair, pale skin.  Maroon sweater curled around her narrow shoulders.  Thomas blinked the image from his memory. 

            Gally continued to talk, but nothing registered with Thomas.  In fact, the entire walk back to Lawrence’s was a blur of muffled one-sided conversation and too-bright lights. 

            When they finally got back, the dust of Lawrence’s building crept into Thomas’ skin and soaked up the grit of the city.  He didn’t look up until he heard Brenda’s voice.

            “Is everything alright?” she asked.

            Thomas kept his eyes on her as he stood with Newt and Gally in the center room, the others situated around the round table.  No one answered.  The silence built around them.

            The only movement came from Newt.  He suddenly veered around Thomas and started to walk toward the back hallway.  There was a crack of sound as his boot banged into the bottom of a chair.  Whether it was intentional or not, Thomas couldn’t tell, but the chair bounced against the table and sent a few sheets of paper and pens sliding to the floor in a clatter.  Thomas watched as Newt crouched down to pick up the mess, gripping his leg with one hand.

            Thomas blinked back the memory of the tunnel, repressed the violent shudder that threatened his body.  His head clouded with the sound of the train on the rails, the cool damp brick that Thomas pressed his face to when he was sure…  When he was so sure…

            Jorge finished helping Newt put the supplies back onto the table and then Newt continued on his way to the back hallway. 

            Thomas didn’t follow.

            A hand gripped his arm lightly and he turned to see Brenda.  “Hey,” she said quietly.  “You okay?”

            Thomas focused on her.  He focused on the way her hair had grown in to frame a slightly tanned face.  He focused on her dark eyes.  He pushed Teresa from his head.  “Yeah,” he nodded.  “Yeah.”

            She looked at him, skepticism on her face, and then she turned to look in the direction of the back hallway.

            “Did you find a way in?” Frypan asked.

            Thomas looked up at him and considered the question.  Considered the answer.  “Possibly.”

            “What is it?”

            Thomas blinked to keep his focus on the room and not on the scene through the telescope.

            A small sigh came from Gally.  “We found Teresa.”  
  
            Thomas closed his eyes as the name sliced through him.  Hearing it aloud was entirely different than thinking it abstractedly. Hearing it from Gally’s mouth was enough to set Thomas’ chest on fire.  “She’s not a way in.”  
  
            “Yes, she is,” Gally said.

            Thomas clenched his jaw.

            “Wait,” Frypan said as he shook his head.  “What?”

            Thomas didn’t answer.

            After a minute, Gally spoke.  “She works for WCKD.  Lab coat and everything.  Whole nine.  I’m betting that if she sees Thomas she-”

            “Can we figure this out later?” Thomas asked quietly.

            Silence answered him before anyone else did.  “Sure,” Gally said.  “Find me when you decide you’re nice and ready to get Minho.”

            Thomas whipped around to him.  “Don’t act like you care.  You’ve been out here for however long, this close to WCKD, doing what? Announcing train schedules on a radio?  Don’t act like you give a shit about getting into WCKD and saving Minho.  Saving anyone.”  
  
            Gally just stared down at Thomas, eyes tight.  “Don’t think you know what I do and don’t care about.”

            “Enlighten me,” Thomas challenged through his teeth.

            Gally took a step to him.  “You don’t need to remind me of what I’ve done.  I haven’t forgotten.  I said my piece to you and I’m not big on repeating myself. You don’t wanna work with me, then fine.  You can go.”  He gestured to the door.  “But I’ve been here nearly four months.  I know this city, I know how WCKD operates.  This is the only option I’ve got for you.  Are you taking it or leaving it?”

            Thomas worked his jaw.

            Frypan stood up from his chair at the table.  “Maybe we should just take a few minutes,” he said slowly.  “Let this register and settle and maybe hear out Gally’s plan.”

            “Do you have a plan?” Brenda asked.

            Gally shrugged.  “Part of one.”

            “Helpful,” Thomas bit.

            “It’d be more helpful if you’d quit the commentary and give me a chance,” Gally quipped back.

            “Alright,” Brenda said stepping between them.  “Let’s back up and take down the testosterone.  The two of you are like rabid dogs.”  She turned to Gally.  “You? Out.” She turned to Thomas. “You? Sleep.” She paused a moment and, when no one moved, dropped her arms to her side.  “At the very least, _I’m_ going to sleep. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”

            Thomas eyed Gally once more before he turned to the table and leaned on it, hands braced on the edge.

            “I’ll be back at noon tomorrow,” Gally said.

            Thomas heard footsteps leave the room and then a heavy sigh.

            “He seems pleasant,” Brenda said.  “I’m going to bed.  Goodnight.”

            “I’ll be back in a few,” Frypan said softly before he left the room, possibly to follow Gally.  
  
            Thomas cricked his neck to the side and looked toward the hallway.  He should get sleep, he knew he had to.  Maybe it would be good to sleep on everything from the day.  The Cranks in the tunnel, the shots at the wall, seeing Gally, the train, seeing Teresa.  It all started to pile on.  Thomas pushed up from the table and shrugged his jacket off as he walked to the back hallway. 

            He reached the first cracked door and pushed it open a bit.  Thomas paused in the doorway. 

            Newt was leaned back on a desk that was set in the corner.  His arms were crossed, eyes set looking at the floor before they shot up to Thomas. 

            They stood in silence for a moment.

            Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest, but he said nothing.  He took a step back.  When Newt didn’t say anything, he took another and another until he turned and pulled the door closed behind him. 

            Something tightened in his throat, but he swallowed around it and continued down the hallway.  Thomas tapped a knuckle twice on the next open door.

            Brenda looked up from the book in her lap.  Her brow furrowed.  “Thomas?”

            “Hey.”

            “Hey,” she said back, confused.  Thomas stood in the doorway, heart pounding, and a moment later, Brenda’s eyes cleared into understanding.  “Come on in.”

            Thomas felt relief break in his chest, just barely.  He pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the room.

            Brenda shifted over in the bed to make room for Thomas to sit. “What’s going on?”

            Thomas slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.  His head swam with everything from the day.  The pounding of the Crank on the windshield just before the truck crashed, bits of glass finding their way into Thomas’ skin, shotgun blasts around him, crowds of Cranks, crowds of the Infected, bullets raining down on him, explosions set off around him, being thrown into trucks, guns pointed at him – always pointed at him, dark tunnels, trains, sirens on cars, climbing buildings, jumping bridges, Teresa, Teresa, Teresa…

            He leaned forward and let his head drop into his hands.  When he closed his eyes, he saw Newt.  He lifted his head and let his fingers trail down his face before they laced against his mouth.  He exhaled, his breath across his knuckles the only evidence he wasn’t completely numb.  He spoke against them.  “I don’t know what to do.”

            He heard Brenda’s book close and saw it come into view in his peripheral vision as she tossed it onto the bedside table.  She swung her legs off of the bed and sat next to him on the edge.  “About getting Minho?”

            “About anything.”

            She looked up at him. “I take it you and that guy didn’t used to get along?”

            “Gally?” he asked, looking at her.  He huffed a laugh.  “No. We didn’t.”

            “And you’re reluctant to have him help.”

            “I don’t know that we can trust him.”

            “Fry told me a little bit about him,” she said softly.  “About how he tried to turn everyone against you.”

            Thomas worked his jaw over the memory.

            When she spoke again, he voice was just over a whisper.  “But he also told me Gally was his best friend.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow and turned to look at her.

            “You didn’t know that?” she asked.

            Thomas didn’t answer.

            “I don’t know everything, he didn’t say too much.  He was mostly stuck in shock for a while,” she explained.  “But I can’t listen to Fry say that was his best friend and then be told he can’t be trusted.  It’s Fry.”

            “He killed-” Thomas’ throat cut off his sentence.  “He tried to kill me.”  
  
            “Yeah,” Brenda nodded.  “So did Jorge.”

            Thomas shook his head.  “That was different.”

            “Harriet and Sonya?”

            “Also different.”

            “Is it?”

            He narrowed his eyes at her.  “You trust him?”

            Brenda shrugged. “I don’t know him.  I only know that Fry trusts him.  I know they were friends once.  I know there was something Gally did that convinced Fry he was a good person.”

            Thomas tilted his head.

            “He wouldn’t give me details,” Brenda shook her head.  “Said it wasn’t his story to tell, whatever that meant.”

            Thomas thought back to a time Frypan told him the same words.

            “All I know,” Brenda continued, “is that I trust Fry.  And I know you do, too.”  
  
            Thomas looked back down at his hands.  “He saved Newt’s life.”  
  
            Brenda waited a moment before she asked.  “Gally?”

            “Tonight,” Thomas nodded.  “There was a train.  And I,” he paused and shook his head.  “I froze.”  Thomas blinked through the flashes of the memory.  “Newt fell.  I didn’t think at first.  I just started to run back but Gally pushed me aside and went after him himself. And that’s when it hit me that they weren’t gonna make it.  And I froze.”  Thomas stared at the wall ahead of him.  “I almost let him die.”

            “You can’t be upset with yourself for that,” Brenda spoke up.  “It was a natural reaction.”

            Thomas looked at her.  “A natural reaction was Gally pinning Newt to the tracks and risking his own life for him.”  
  
            Brenda looked at him for a moment.  “Seems like someone you can trust.”  
  
            Thomas looked back at his hands. 

            “Trusting someone doesn’t mean you forgive them,” Brenda said. “What does Newt think?”

            Thomas counted his heartbeats.  “He said Gally was a ‘true friend’ of his once.”

            “Well,” Brenda reasoned, “if you’re not gonna take Fry’s word for it...”

            Thomas dropped his head and sighed into his hands again before dragging one of them back through his hair.  “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

            “Newt?”

            Thomas clenched his jaw and felt the muscles shift. 

            “I thought I noticed something weird between you,” Brenda said softly.

            Thomas shifted his eyes to the side but didn’t quite make it to Brenda. “He hasn’t been sleeping well.”  Thomas shook his head and looked back down at his hands.  “At all, maybe.  I have no idea.” He scratched softly at a cut on the back of his hand.  “He hasn’t been eating, he barely talks to me, he’s always off in his own world.  It’s like Minho not being on that train set off some sort of switch inside of him that I can’t power back up.”  He looked at Brenda.

            Brenda only looked back at him with her brow furrowed.  After a minute, she turned to look forward again, but her eyes continued to shift around the room. After a moment, she spoke.  “You think it’s Minho that’s got him all messed up?”

            Thomas shrugged.  “Don’t know what else it could be.  He told me that he couldn’t let himself be happy with Minho was still stuck in WCKD’s hands.”

            “He broke it off between you two because Minho is still with WCKD?”

            Thomas shrugged.  “That’s what it seemed like.”

            “And if this time fails, too?”

            Thomas exhaled.

            And then so did Brenda.  “We should get some sleep,” she said.  “I have a feeling tomorrow is gonna be a long day.”  Brenda shifted herself back up the bed to lie down. 

            Thomas lied down and stared at the ceiling.  Tomorrow would be a long day.  But so was every other day he’d lived since he woke up in the box.

 

***

 

            “Morning, Greenie.”  Gally tossed a backpack onto the table.  “I see you’re still here.”

            Thomas looked up as Gally turned back to close the door.  He stood from his chair.  “Gally.”

            Gally looked over his shoulder.  “Don’t panic,” he said, holding up his hands.  “Just easier to hear and talk without all that noise going on outside.” He gestured vaguely toward the door. 

            “Listen, I know you don’t like me,” Thomas continued.  “And that’s fine, because I don’t exactly like you either.”

            Gally crossed his arms and his eyebrows quirked up.

            “But we’re pushing that aside.  This is about Minho and getting him back.”

            Gally nodded.  “Are you telling me or yourself?”

            “Both of us.”  
  
            “Alright, that’s fair.”

            “This doesn’t mean I forgive you for anything,” Thomas clarified.  “And when this is over, we part ways.  Just like you said.”

            “Fine by me,” Gally shrugged.  “Didn’t feel the need to follow you then, don’t feel it now.”

            Thomas held his gaze for a minute before he stepped out from the table.  “I’ll get the others.”

            “Hey Greenie.”

            Thomas stopped and worked his jaw to keep a few choice words inside.  He stayed facing the back hallway.  “What?”

            There was silence, but Thomas refused to turn around.  Finally, Gally spoke.  “You look like shit.  Get some sleep after this.”  
  
            Thomas turned left down the hallway. He knocked on Jorge’s door first.

            “Coming out now,” his voice called out.

            Thomas turned and knocked twice on Brenda’s door.  It opened a minute later and she answered with a stifled yawn before heading out into the main room, Jorge joining her.

            Thomas paused in front of Newt’s door.  He waited until the others were out of the hallway before he knocked.

            “Hang on,” Newt’s voice sounded.  A minute later, he pulled open the door. Thomas eyed him.  He was still in the previous night’s clothes.  Granted, they all were.  They didn’t have much of a choice.  But there was something different about the way Newt wore his like a punishment.  He adjusted the collar of his maroon jacket as he eyed Thomas.  “He’s here?”

            Thomas nodded.  “The others are in the main room.”

            “Okay.”

            Thomas stepped to the side to let Newt pass.  He swallowed around whatever had lodged itself permanently in his throat and followed Newt.

            “Where’s Fry?” Brenda asked as they walked in.

            “He’ll be here in a minute,” Gally answered.  “Jasper is teaching him about something on one of the trucks.”  
  
            “Who’s Jasper?” Brenda asked.

            “You writing a book?” Gally nodded at her.

            “Gal,” Newt said quietly.

            Gally looked over at him, glanced at Thomas, then Brenda and back at Newt.  “Wow,” he laughed.  “Do none of you actually know what sleep is?”

            “What’s your plan, Gally?” Thomas sighed as he ran a hand down his face.

            “Again,” he started.  “It’s only half a plan.”

            “Shouldn’t we wait for Fry?” Brenda asked.

            Gally pointed at Brenda in agreement.

            “Then why would you even come here without him?” Thomas asked as he snatched his jacket from the back of a chair.

            “I said noon,” Gally said, raising his hands in innocence.

            Thomas glanced at him as he walked to the door.

            “That way,” Gally nodded to the side.

            “What?” Thomas looked to the right.  There was another door in the far corner that he hadn’t noticed before.

            “It leads right outside,” Gally explained.  “It’ll be faster.  There’s a set of stairs across the roof that’ll lead you down to the garage.”

            “Roof?” Thomas asked.

            “Yeah, a roof. Did I stutter?”

            “Hey,” Brenda called out over them.  “Can you two chill?”  
  
            Thomas looked past Gally at her, but his eyes snagged on Newt as he folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, tongue sliding across his teeth.  Thomas could practically feel the frustration roiling off of him. He looked back at Gally and then turned and pushed his way through the door.  The sun was at its highest point now, but the wind was still cool here.  He realized he probably didn’t need the jacket, but he shoved his hands in his pockets anyway as he walked across the rooftop.

            His eyes glanced off the bits of paper littered about, there was an overturned chair on one end and one seated upright on the other.  A few crates were scattered about with cups like a makeshift rooftop deck.  Thomas shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he reached the stairs and jogged down them.

            Four stories lower, he found Frypan.  It was actually hard to miss him.

            A large Crane was parked right outside the garage and it maneuvered its way forward and backward, lifting metal beams and rods and piling them on the side. 

            “Thomas!”

            He jogged over to where Frypan was standing next to an older man.  “The hell is this?” Thomas asked.

            “Cool, right?” Frypan asked as he squinted up at it.

            Thomas’ brow quirked up.  “I guess,” he laughed.

            “Jasper was teaching me a bit how to use it.  It’s actually really close to the excavator.”

            “The excavator,” Thomas repeated.

            “Yeah,” Frypan nodded, his eyes never leaving the truck.

            Thomas looked up at it once more before he tapped Frypan on the arm.  “I don’t mean to cut the fun short, but Gally’s upstairs.  Wants to go over this plan of his.”

            Frypan looked at him, the smile fading.  “Okay,” he nodded. 

            Thomas furrowed his brow.  “What’s wrong?”

            Frypan shook his head.  “I was with Gally for a while last night. Just catching up on things, you know?  He talked a bit about his idea and,” Frypan looked up at him.  “I don’t know that it’s gonna be something you like.”

            Thomas looked at Frypan for a minute.  He turned fully to him.  “What did he tell you?”

            “I think it’s best you hear it from him,” Frypan said.  “I don’t wanna be caught in this.  It’s not my idea.”  He stepped forward but Thomas grabbed his arm.

            “Fry.”

            “Thomas,” he sighed. “It’s not gonna be something you like. But just hear him out, okay?”

            Thomas eyed him for another minute before he took a step backward.  “Come on,” he nodded toward the stairs.  “Let’s go.”

 

            “Alright, we ready now?” Gally sighed, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed.

            Brenda gestured to the room. “Floor’s yours.”  
  
            Gally pushed off the wall. “Okay.  Now before you say anything, I don’t want any interruptions.  We’re not running this like Alby’s old Keeper meetings. Let me say everything, let me finish, and then you can ask whatever questions you want.”

            “Just tell us the plan, Gally,” Thomas sighed.

            “Are you gonna interrupt me?”

            “Are you gonna start?”

            “Thomas.”

            Thomas snapped his neck in Newt’s direction.  He was leaned against a wall with his head back and eyes closed, arms folded. Thomas swallowed and looked back at Gally.  He gestured for him to start.

            “Okay,” Gally nodded.  He looked around the room.  “So, Teresa.”

            Thomas shifted his weight and rolled his shoulders.

            “You have a problem already?” Gally asked.

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “You gonna put on this Pissed Off Shank Show every time I mention her name? Cuz she’s a big part of this plan so just give me the warning now so I know to expect it.”

            “Gally, just say the goddamn plan.”

            “Will you two please quit it?” Newt said slowly, voice even.

            Thomas looked back over at him, but his position on the wall hadn’t changed.  Thomas turned back to Gally. “Speak.”

            Gally blinked at Thomas, brows raising.

            Thomas clenched his jaw.

            “You two are ridiculous,” Brenda said.  “We’re never gonna get anything done if you can’t just work together.”

            “I haven’t said anything this entire time,” Thomas reminded her.

            Newt pushed off the wall suddenly and walked to the back hallway.

            “Where are _you_ going?” Gally asked.

            Newt didn’t respond.  He just turned the corner and disappeared behind the wall.

            Thomas ran a hand through his hair.  He turned back to Gally. “When we come back, say the plan. No interruptions.”

            Gally gave him a look that very plainly said _I’m trying to._

Thomas watched him a few seconds longer before he turned and went after Newt.

           

            He leaned in the doorway and looked into the room.  “Hey,” he started.  Newt simply shuffled aimlessly with a few things on the desk.  Papers, pens, books, maps.  “Are you alright?”

            “I’m fine,” Newt said.  He picked up a shirt that was folded on the corner of the desk.  It unfolded in his hands and he shook it out once before refolding it.

            “Sorry,” Thomas shook his head.

            Newt looked over at him.  One brow quirked up.

            Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know. Anything? Everything.”

            Newt looked back down at the shirt and put it on the desk.  He gathered three pens and lined them up next to it.  “Nothing you did.”  
  
            “Feels that way.”

            “Well,” Newt said as he collected the papers in a neat pile, “it’s not.”

            Thomas bounced his leg.  “Are you gonna come back out?”

            “Are you and Gally done?” He folded the map on the desk.

            “Yes.”

            Newt looked at him, skepticism clear through his smirk.

            “Yes,” Thomas repeated again, breaking into a bit of a smile.  Despite the air around them, something in the smirk reassured Thomas. 

            Newt tossed the folded map onto the desk.  “Let’s try this again,” he sighed. 

            Thomas’ smile stayed as he stepped out of the doorway for Newt to pass. He followed him into the center room.  Newt leaned down on the table and Thomas walked to the other side of him.  He looked up at Gally.

            “Are we ready?” Gally asked, hands in the pockets of his sweater.

            Thomas nodded.

            “Fantastic. So,” he started.  “Teresa.” He paused and looked at Thomas.

            Thomas waited nearly a full minute before he asked.  “What?”

            “Just making sure you’re not gonna throw a tantrum again.”

            Thomas dropped his gaze and kept his mouth shut.  He would stay quiet for Newt.

            “She works with WCKD,” Gally continued addressing the rest of the group.  “We all know she and Thomas had some sort of weird connection to each other.” He pointed to Brenda.  “I’m gonna assume you know these things. Go with it.” He pointed to Jorge.  “Same for you.”

            “Don’t point at me.”

            Gally blinked and put his hand in his pocket.  “Noted.” He nodded.  “Anyway, Thomas goes to see Teresa.”

            “At WCKD?” Frypan asked.

            “Yes,” Gally nodded.

            “You want Thomas to go into WCKD?” Frypan on continued to clarify.  He looked at Thomas.

            “Let him finish,” Thomas said.

            Newt looked up at Thomas.

            “Thomas sneaks into WCKD,” Gally continued.  “Don’t have the how for that part worked out yet.  Then he sees her and convinces her to come talk to him.”

            “How?” Brenda asked.

            “I don’t care. He can knock her out and drag her here for all I care. Let me finish.”

            Brenda sighed, annoyed, and rested her head on her fist.

            “We get her here.  She tells us where Minho is. We use her to get in. We get him out. Home by dinner.”

            Thomas blinked.

            “Well?” Gally asked.

            “That’s your plan,” Thomas said.  “Your whole plan. That’s it. Those… ten words you said.”

            Gally tilted his head at Thomas.  “I’m sorry, do you want me to elaborate with unnecessary detail?”

            “Details are what’s gonna actually make this work.”

            “How,” Brenda spoke over them, “are we going to get Minho out?”

            “Depends where they have him,” Gally shrugged.

            “There’ll be others,” Jorge said from his chair.  “We should try to get as many out as we can.”

            “I agree,” Thomas nodded. 

            “Okay,” Frypan said, “but there’s no train car to steal and we don’t have the berg.”

            “You have a berg?” Gally asked.

            “Had,” Frypan corrected him.

            “You lost a berg?” Gally asked.

            “Forget the berg,” Thomas waved his hand. “How are we getting into WCKD?”

            “With Teresa,” Gally said.

            Thomas narrowed his eyes at him.  “Okay, genius, how are we getting in to get her?”

            Gally tilted his head back and forth.  “Working that out.  See, I’m thinking about their schedule.”

            “You know her schedule?” Thomas asked.

            “In case you haven’t put it together yet, it’s kind of what I do.” Gally gestured to the mass of train schedules on the table.  “Between twelve and one, she’s on a break.  Obviously, we’re not doing anything then because of daylight.”  
  
            “And also because it’s literally right _now_ , but continued,” Brenda said.

            Gally barely acknowledged her.  “The latest I’ve seen her there is eleven.  Which means she’ll be finishing up around that time.  When she’s leaving, we can get her.”

            “Get her how?” Frypan asked.

            “Don’t care,” Gally said. “Like I said, we can knock her out if we need to.”

            “We’re not kidnapping her,” Thomas said.

            “She kidnapped Minho,” Gally shrugged. “If you have a better idea, please feel free to share.”

            “What if Thomas just asks her?” Frypan asked.  “I mean, she might listen to you.”  
  
            Thomas’ chest tightened at the thought of speaking to her.

            “Sure,” Gally nodded.  “Hey Teresa, I know you kidnapped my friend and screwed us all over with our biggest enemy but wanna just hang out and chat?”

            “Gal,” Frypan sighed.

            “Sorry Fry,” Gally shrugged. “Talking’s not gonna work in this situation.  Thomas gets her attention, throws her focus off, we grab her and bring her back here.”

            “How are we getting _out_ of WCKD?” Brenda asked.

            “I’ve got those vans,” Gally shrugged.

            “How many people fit in there?” Frypan asked.  “We have no idea how many people WCKD even has.”

            “At least another train car,” Thomas said.  “So, bank on fifty.”

            “Fifty people,” Frypan nodded.  “How in the hell?”

            “I can go back for the berg,” Jorge offered.  “It would take time, and I’d need to borrow a car, but I can get it.”

            “It’d definitely help,” Brenda said.

            Thomas scratched at his jaw.  “What about the fuel?”

            “WCKD has that too,” Gally shrugged.  “Get it when we get Teresa.”

            “Which means Jorge’s not getting the berg until we already have Teresa.  It’s gonna take him at least half a day to get back to it.”

            Gally shrugged. “We can keep her here as long as we need to.”

            “WCKD will notice if she doesn’t show up the next day,” Thomas said.

            Gally tossed his arms in the air.  “You’re afraid she’s gonna get fired or something?”

            “I’m afraid they’re gonna know it’s us.”

            “They already know it’s us,” Brenda said.  “After that train heist? They’re probably waiting for you to show up.”

            “Which makes this even more difficult,” Thomas reasoned.

            “Since when has that stopped you?” Brenda asked.

            Thomas ran a hand down his face.

            “Listen,” Gally said.  “Once we get Teresa and find out where Minho is, we’ll be able to manage the rest.  If we have to wait a day in between, we can.”

            “I don’t think that’ll work,” Thomas said.  “We can’t keep her here for an entire day and we can’t let her go back alone.  She’ll tell them.”

            “It has to happen the same night,” Brenda said.

            “Yes,” Thomas nodded.

            “Okay,” Gally leaned on the table.  “New plan.  We kidnap Teresa-”

            “-not kidnapping-”

            “-we get berg fuel and guard uniforms. We-”

            “-guard uniforms?-”

            “-come back here,” Gally continued.  “Bossman here takes the fuel and a van to pick up your berg.  We get Teresa to tell us where Minho is.  We stall a bit to buy time for the berg.  We put on the uniforms.  We storm WCKD using her ID to get us in.  We find Minho and the others.  Get them out and lead them downstairs to the berg. Everyone lives happily ever after.”

            “There are several things wrong with this plan,” Brenda sighed. 

            “What?” Gally bit.

            “We can’t stall for twelve hours for Jorge to get the berg.  Thomas is right, they’ll notice her missing. They’ll figure out it’s Thomas right away.  Then what?” Brenda looked around at them.  “They’re gonna track him with the things in your neck and it’s gonna lead them right here.”

            “Is there a day she isn’t at WCKD, Gal?” Frypan asked as he pulled a chair forward to sit.

            Gally shrugged. “Barely.  Nothing set, anyway.” He leaned forward on the table.

            “Is it possible they might think she took a rest day?”  

            “The only way this works is with the berg,” Brenda said. “We need to stall for time somehow.  We don’t have much of another choice.”

            Thomas stepped away from the table and ran a hand through his hair.

            “These trackers you have,” Jorge spoke up.  “WCKD’s got tight security.  Won’t that set off an alarm when you get there?”

            Thomas dropped his arm to his side.

            “Are they possible to remove?” Brenda asked.

            “It’s a difficult process,” Jorge shook his head.  “You need a steady hand and good precision.  It’s very easy to mess it up.  Things can go wrong fast.”

            “Would she know how to do it?” Frypan asked.

            “Probably,” Gally said.  “That’s how we can stall.  Make her remove the trackers.”

            “This is all still leading her here and I’m not a fan of that,” Brenda said.

            “So, we go somewhere else, I don’t care where we go,” Gally said.

            “WCKD’s gonna know she’s gone,” Thomas said, eyeing the door outside, but not quite seeing much else except Teresa’s face.  His chest closed in on itself.  The thought of speaking to her, of being around her again.  He closed his eyes and pushed the vision from his mind.  “We can’t do that.  We can’t use her.  Forget it.”

            “We can’t use her?” Gally asked.  “What are you talking about? We don’t have another option.”

            Thomas scratched his jaw.  “No,” he turned back to the table. “There’s gotta be another way.”

            Gally pushed off the table.  “Like what? You’ve seen the building.  She _is_ our only way in.”

            Thomas furrowed his brow at Gally.  “You really think she’s gonna help us?”

            Gally blinked. “I don’t plan on asking for her permission.”

            “Am I missing something here?” Brenda asked.  “This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?”

            Gally tilted pointed at Brenda. “I like her.”

            Thomas sighed and glanced around the table.

            Brenda looked up at him.  “What’s going on?”

            Thomas dropped her gaze.  How could he even voice it?  How could he tell them it made him sick to be just a few miles from her, let alone in the same room as her?  How could h-

            “What, you afraid your little girlfriend’s gonna get hurt?”

            Thomas rocked back from his thoughts and turned to look at Newt.

            “Hmm?” Newt continued and looked at him.  “This has obviously never been just about rescuing Minho. Has it?”

            Thomas felt his heart pound in his chest.  He furrowed his brow and took a step toward Newt.  “Wait, what are you talking about?”

            “Teresa.”  Newt pushed himself up from the table and walked toward Thomas.  Something darkened in his eyes suddenly.  “She’s the only reason that Minho’s even missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back and what?” He stepped closer as Thomas backed up.  “You don’t want to because of _her?_ ”

            Thomas stepped back again as Newt stepped closer.  His boot hit the wall behind him and he stilled.

            Newt stepped up to him once more, inches away.  He spoke low.  “Because deep down inside you still care about her, don’t you?” His face twisted.  “Just admit it.”

            Thomas’ nerves spiked and he was suddenly very aware of the others watching them.  This was not a conversation for right now.  “Newt, I-”

            Newt’s shout was a blur of sound as Thomas’ head banged on the wall behind him, rocking colors across his vision.  Newt’s face swam back into view: teeth bared, eyes wide.  “Don’t. Lie. To me,” he repeated.

            Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest beneath where Newt’s hands were curled into fists in Thomas’ jacket. It was two heartbeats later that Newt’s eyes suddenly softened into something familiar, and then into fear.  Thomas watched Newt’s eyes shift and flick between Thomas’ eyes, his own fists and back up.

            Newt uncurled his fists from the jacket and took a step away from Thomas. He swallowed, his eyes continuing to flicker. “Sorry,” he said, just barely above a whisper. He turned to look back at the others watching on from the table. “I’m sorry,” he said a little louder.  He turned and walked off toward the rooftop door. 

            Thomas stepped away from the wall, his eyes never leaving Newt. It wasn’t until Newt was through the door that Thomas turned to the others.  His heart pounded inside of his chest.

            The others seemed to mirror his own feeling: shock, confusion, fear.

            And that’s what unnerved Thomas the most: that it wasn’t just in his head.  That he didn’t just imagine it.

            Brenda was the first one to drop her gaze to the table.

            Nobody spoke.

            Thomas opened his mouth but no words came out.  He still felt fists curled in his jacket, breath hot against him, heat roiling off of Newt.  Mostly, he saw Newt’s eyes.  The anger in them.  The challenge.

            Those weren’t Newt’s eyes.

 

***

 

            Thomas’ focus finally came back when the day faded into a clear night.  There was a dim glow coming from some horizon that was blocked by the towering buildings.  Thomas couldn’t see the sun itself, not through the city.  The glow, though.  The glow snuck around those buildings.  It made its presence known.

            Newt had gone inside almost immediately, but Thomas stayed.  He replayed their conversation on a loop in his head; each time it ended, a new one began.    

            _No matter what the cost._

And immediately –

_Sorry about that. Back there._

Thomas ran a hand down his face once and then across his cheek with the back of his hand.  He dried his palm on his pants, inhaled once through a stuffed nose and pushed himself up from the ground.  He exhaled. 

            One day.  Twenty-four hours.  He at least at that.

            It would have to be tonight.  They’d have to get Teresa tonight and move the plan quickly.  The stalling was out, but there would be one more stop added to the plan.  He took another breath, steadied himself, and walked back into the building. 

            Brenda and Frypan still lingered at the table, talking in quiet tones.  They stopped immediately and looked up at him.

            “Where’s Gally?” Thomas asked, not bothering to hide the shake in his voice.

            “He went downstairs to see if they could secure a van,” Frypan answered.

            There was concern written across both of their faces, but Thomas didn’t bother to acknowledge it.  Whether they knew or not didn’t matter.  “Get your stuff together.”

            “What?” Brenda asked.

            “We’re going tonight.”

            The two exchanged a look.  “Thomas,” Brenda started.  “We don’t even have a full plan yet.”

            “Yes, we do,” Thomas answered.  “Get Teresa. Get inside. Get Minho. Get the serum. Get out.”

            “Wait,” Brenda said.  “The serum?”

            Thomas didn’t bother to answer.  They could put it together on their own.

            “How are we supposed to get that?”

            “Teresa will tell us where it is,” Thomas said, voice even.  He turned to Frypan.  “Can you get Gally?”

            “No need,” Gally’s voice came from the doorway.

            Thomas turned to look up at him.

            Gally paused as they met eyes.  Something flashed across Gally’s face, but he didn’t speak.  He dropped his gaze and reached into his pocket.  “I got the keys to one of the vans.  We can use it to get to WCKD and get Teresa with us.  We shouldn’t drive it too close to the building though.  They know our vans from The Wall.  We have to keep it away.  You’ll have to lure her into another building.”

            “Okay,” Thomas nodded.

            Gally looked up at him.  “Okay?”

            “Okay,” Thomas repeated.

            “What? No questions? No objections?”

            Thomas considered this.  “One question.”

            Gally quirked an eyebrow.

            “When’s the soonest we can leave?”

            Gally glanced at the others and back to Thomas.  “We can go tonight if you’re ready.”

            “When tonight?”

            “In twenty.”

            Thomas nodded and looked at the others. “Get your things.”  He turned and walked to the hallway.

            He paused in front of Newt’s door.  He knocked twice on the door.  When there was no answer, he knocked again.  “Newt.”

            There was a small shuffling sound and then Newt opened the door. 

            Thomas’ chest tightened. 

_Immunes like you and people like me._

“We’re going now.”

            “To WCKD?”

            “To Teresa.”

            Newt dropped his gaze.  He nodded.  “Let’s go.”

            Thomas held out a hand to Newt’s chest before he walked out past him.  He distantly wondered about Newt’s heart and if it always beat that fast.  “I need you and Frypan to grab the guard uniforms and fuel.  Gally’s got another van for you two.”  
  
            Newt flicked his gaze between Thomas’ eyes and then nodded.  “You’re getting her on your own?”

            “Gally will be with me.  We’ll meet you and Frypan at another location after.  We can’t come back here.”

            Newt eyed him for a minute.  “How many uniforms?”

           

***

 

            His chest hurt from holding in screams that threatened to break out of him, his head pounded from keeping his eyes dry.

            “Wait here,” Gally said somewhere to his right.  “Keep the van running.”

            “You got it,” Jorge said.

            “Let’s go,” Gally said.

            Thomas moved.  He didn’t know where they went, he didn’t watch the signs.  He didn’t look up at the lights.  He just moved.

            “You know what you’re gonna say to her?” Gally asked.

            Thomas didn’t answer.  He thought back to dropping Newt and Frypan off around the other end of the building for the uniforms.  Maybe he should have said something.  What if Thomas and Gally were taken?  What if Newt and Frypan were taken?

            _No_ , he reminded himself. _The won’t take Newt. They have no use for him now._

“Thomas?”

            Thomas looked up to see Gally eyeing him.  “What?”

            “You okay?”

            Thomas furrowed a brow at Gally. “You’re asking if I’m okay?”

            Gally shrugged and looked down the street. “Cross.”

            Thomas jogged after Gally across the street.  They slowed to a stop and continued walking down the block in the shadows. 

            “Listen,” Gally continued.  “You don’t need to tell me anything. Or talk to me at all.  And really, I don’t care all that much.  But if it’s gonna shuck this plan up, I’m gonna need you to figure it out.”

            “Thanks, Gally.”

            Gally stopped and grabbed Thomas’ arm.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that wasn’t Newt back there.  I’m not asking for answers, I’m not asking for an explanation.  I don’t care what’s going on with you two, to be perfectly honest.  But,” he paused and seemed to work over his words.  “I know sometimes things can happen you don’t plan.  People can happen that you don’t plan.”  
  
            Thomas furrowed his brow.

            “I know this sucks,” he nodded at the building on the next block.  “But if you need me to jump in early at any point, I can.”

            For the first time, Thomas noticed something genuine in Gally’s eyes.  “Just let me talk to her for a minute before you take her.”

            “You give me the signal.”

            Thomas nodded.

            Gally looked up at the building next to them.  “Alright.  I’m gonna head in here.  Lead her to this exit.  It’s the back, anyone in this building will be using the front.  No one will see us.”

            Thomas nodded.  He turned and pulled his hood up.

            “Greenie,” Gally called out.

            Thomas turned.

            “She’s not the same girl you knew,” Gally said.  “Remember that.”

 

***

 

 

            Thomas leaned back against the wall and exhaled.  He shut his eyes.  The sound of heels stopped echoing in the hall.  And then it was only silence.  He took another breath.  No stalling.  He pushed off the wall and walked out into the hallway, pulling his hood down.  Black hair, thin frame.  Not much had changed since the mountain.  And yet, somehow, everything had.

            She turned and faced him, blue eyes piercing into his own.  It didn’t matter anymore.  There were few things that did.  There was one thing that did.

            “Thomas,” Teresa breathed.  The hallway echoed it back for him.

            “Hey, Teresa,” he said.

            She shook her head.  “You shouldn’t be here.”

            His head should have spun at her voice.  It should have dug deeper into him.  But all he felt was tired. 

            “If Janson finds out you’re here-”

            “I’m not staying.”  Thomas walked toward her.  _She’s not the same girl you knew._ “It’s just,” he stopped inches from her.  “I had to see you.  I had to ask you something.”

            Teresa’s eyes glassed over.

            Thomas didn’t focus on that.  He focused on her working with WCKD.  He focused on her betraying the Right Arm.  Betraying him.  He focused on the last time he saw her: standing on a berg next to Ava and Janson, Minho held up unconscious next to her.  He focused on Newt, infected with the Flare yet still tortured and chased by WCKD every day.  “Do you regret it?” He asked softly. “What you did to us?”

            Teresa dropped her gaze briefly, but she looked at him when she answered.  “Sometimes,” she nodded.  “But I did what I thought was right.”

            Thomas held her gaze.  In his peripheral vision, he could see Gally leaning in the alcove, eyeing him.

            “I’d do it again,” Teresa added.

            Thomas worked her words in his head and then nodded. “Good.”

            Her brow furrowed.

            Thomas looked up to Gally directly now.  It was all the signal he needed.

 

***

 

            “Pull over here,” Gally instructed close to six hours later.  “That’s the van I gave to Fry.”

            Thomas leaned against the door in the backseat.  He could have slept.  He should have.  They’d chosen this place to keep WCKD from tracking them back to Lawrence’s.  It was in the opposite direction, hours out from WCKD.

            The Church rose high above.  Gally assured them it was abandoned; faith had forsaken anyone in this city years ago.  The van rolled onto the sidewalk and slowed to a stop behind a similar one.  Thomas pushed his way out and let Gally take over leading Teresa inside ahead of him. 

            The doors creaked as they walked through and stale incense and musty air circled Thomas immediately.  They walked down the aisle, footsteps marking heartbeats.  Candles lit the way and caused shadows to climb the walls as the sun began to break through the dusty stained glass.  Another day arriving.

            Thomas eyed the tall ceilings, broken pews and cracked stone; shattered prayers that sunk into the molded drapes.  And below all of this, Newt and Frypan waited next to a broken alter. 

            The door banged shut behind them and echoed like thunder. 

            Newt stepped down and brushed past Gally and Teresa without so much as a glance at them.  He stopped directly in front of Thomas.

            Thomas’ eyes stayed unfocused.  His head swam with everything lingering from his thoughts in the van: Teresa. Teresa was here.

            “Tommy?”

            It was a rush of blood and fire burning beneath his skin.  It was Teresa saying his name when she came up in the box.  It was meeting eyes in the lookout tree as she lowered the knife and let him take it.  It was waking up in her lap not once, but twice.  It was the Maze, WCKD, the Scorch, the mountains.  It was the crowded street, traffic blurring past.

            His heart pounded against his chest and the taste of the air choked him.  And no, Thomas knew she wasn’t the same person he knew then.  He knew Gally was right.  He knew she couldn’t be trusted, nor forgiven.  But Thomas also knew that they needed her. He needed to believe she could help them; that she would help them.

            Thomas needed her to speak.  He needed answers.  He needed to know they could get in.  He needed to get Minho. 

            “Tommy?”

            His gaze dragged up to meet Newt’s.  Dark brown eyes burrowed into his own.  Had they always been that dark?  Thomas worked to keep his thoughts from spiraling.  He needed to know he could save Newt. There was no time to stall.  He stepped around him and walked forward.

            Thomas slumped into a chair situated across from the one Teresa now sat in, bag still draped over her head, hiding her from view.  His mouth was dry and something as simple as opening it made Thomas feel like it’d crack.  Like he might crack.  His eyes stung just as dry; blinking felt like sandpaper dulling his vision.

            He stared ahead, focused on the dark sack that hung over Teresa’s head. It was snatched off a moment later and Thomas barely had time to register Newt tossing it to the side and taking the seat next to him before his eyes snagged on Teresa’s.  His heart stammered in his chest and he nearly pulled a muscle keeping his body from shaking.  His eyes unfocused, his heart slowed, and he waited.

            “Gally?” she asked, eyes flicking up to where he leaned on the table.

            “Here’s how this is gonna go,” Gally began.

 

 

***

 

 

            “You can’t save everyone Thomas,” Brenda said as she handed him the gun.  A look in her eyes made him think of everyone she tried to save.  Everyone she still saw to this day.

            He took the gun from her.  “I can try.”

            She turned and walked away, but Thomas waited.  His eyes stayed on the spot she had been standing in.  He could try.  He would try.  He racked the slide of his gun and holstered it at his thigh.   He knew exactly who he’d be starting with.

 

            Thomas’ boots pounded on the church floor.  When he stopped, Frypan looked up at him.

            “Where is he?” Thomas asked.

            Frypan’s face seemed to twitch a bit before he answered.  “He said he wanted some ti-”

            “Where is he?” Thomas repeated.

            Frypan looked at him for a moment, his face a mix of concern and guilt.  He lifted his arm and pointed over his shoulder.

            Thomas shifted his eyes and found the door in the back corner of the chancel past the alter.  He walked in time with his heartbeats, and with each step he replayed the scenes.

            _This won’t work._

            _Please understand._

_Didn’t think it would make any difference._

            _No matter what the cost._

            He slowed a few feet from the light pouring out from the room.  A shadow walked across it.  Thomas inhaled, exhaled, and moved. 

            He stood on the threshold of the doorway and his eyes immediately found Newt pulling on a heavy red jacket, black patches and white strips cutting across. Thomas caught a flash of black lines crawling from beneath Newt’s shirt and fading under a thin silver chain before the jacket’s collar blocked it from view.  Newt’s movements paused and Thomas flicked his eyes up to lock on Newt’s. 

            Newt’s brow twitched just slightly, the tilt of his head barely perceptible.

            Thomas stepped into the room and turned.  He reached an arm out and slowly pulled the door from where it rested open.  It clicked softly as he gently pushed it closed.  He kept his hand braced on it for a moment, staring at the lines in the polished wood.  The shellac was cool against his palm as his blood coursed through him, heart hammering in his chest.  He swallowed hard once and then again.  The lines of the wood swam in front of him.  His eyes fluttered closed. He inhaled, exhaled, and opened his eyes.  “You lied.”

            Silence answered him.

            His eyes followed his hand as he dragged it down the door and let it fall to his side.  He turned and leaned back against the door.  He shifted his focus up and found Newt’s eyes immediately. 

            Newt watched him in silence, body frozen with caution. 

            Thomas swallowed.  “At the docks,” he clarified.  “You lied to me. I didn’t realize it until you said it yourself,” he pushed off the door. 

            Newt said nothing still, only watched him.

            “This was never just about rescuing Minho,” Thomas repeated.

            Recognition flashed across Newt’s face and he lifted it just the slightest bit.  Still, he said nothing.

            “Was it?”

            Silence.

            Thomas narrowed his eyes only slightly against the pain building behind them.  He took another step forward.  “Was it?”

            “Tommy-”

            “Well now you get a second chance,” Thomas said, stopping in the middle of the room.  “Say it.”

            Newt swallowed.

            “I want to hear you say why you ended it,” Thomas said, voice nearly breaking over the words.

            Newt dropped his gaze.

            “No, no,” Thomas shook his head and took another small step forward. His voice shook, raising with the words. “Don’t look away, look at me. I want you to look at me when you tell me how hurting me now will make it hurt any less later.”  His eyes burned as he stared at Newt.

            Newt continued to watch him, shoulders rising and falling. 

            “You can’t even say it,” Thomas said quietly.  “The truth, Newt.  Don’t I at least deserve that?”  His voice gave in over the last words.  He turned away and ran a hand down his face.  “Shit,” he breathed.

            “Tommy,” Newt said softly.

            Thomas turned around.  “Was it supposed to make it easier for me?  For you?”

            “You think this is easy?” Newt asked.

            “No,” Thomas said, “I know it’s not.  But this?” he gestured between the two of them.  “How could you think ending this would help?”  He didn’t care about the cracks in his voice any longer.  At this point he didn’t care if it shattered. 

            “You’d have done the same thing,” Newt said.

            “No, I wouldn’t have.”

            “And what would you have done so differently?”

            “I’d fight.”

            “Fight what?” Newt gestured around them and dropped his arms to his sides. He shook his head.  “I’ve been fighting my whole life, Tommy.  Some battles are just lost from the start.”

            “They don’t have to be,” Thomas said, barely above a whisper. He stepped forward.  “We can win this one.  I know we can.  We’ll find a way.”

            “There’s no cure,” Newt said, voice strong. “You know that.”

            Thomas’ eyes flitted around the room, aching at the fight they were slowly losing.  He looked back at Newt suddenly.  “The serum.  We’ll get Minho and take the serum with us.  Whatever they have.  We’ll take all of it.”

            “And then what?” Newt asked, brow furrowed.  He took a slow step forward.  “You wanna go off to some Paradise and keep one eye on me, waiting for me to lash out?  Stick a bloody needle in my neck every time my hand starts to twitch?” He shook his head.  “What kind of life is that?”  
  
            “At least it is a life.”

            “Is it?”

            Thomas clenched his teeth.  His eyes burned and his head ached.  His chest was on fire below the rock in his throat, a dam waiting to break.  It leaked through cracks that spiderwebbed inside of him. “What am I supposed to do?”

            “You save Minho,” Newt said, voice wavering.

            “And you?”

            Newt looked at him in silence for a moment before he dropped his gaze and turned.

            “No,” Thomas said over a choked laugh.  “Don’t do that.  Don’t tell me to save one of you and not the other.  I won’t.  I won’t let him suffer and I won’t let you give up.”

            “That’s not your decision to make.”

            “You’re right,” Thomas said, voice growing.  “It’s yours.” 

            Newt stilled, but his eyes shifted toward Thomas.  A shallow heartbeat and then he spoke, barely audible. “Don’t do that.  Don’t use my past against me.”

            “I’m not,” Thomas said.  “I’m trying to use a future.  Our future.”

            Newt’s eyes found Thomas’ this time, dark and steady.  “You don’t get to do that, either.”

            “Why no-”

            “You don’t get to use love as a gambling piece!” Newt shouted.

            Thomas’ heart stammered and his body froze.  For a moment, it was a flash of dark black eyes and hands pinning him to a wall, and then he was back to the dim church room.  The words rang through him again.  And then one word.

            Newt swallowed, eyes closed beneath a furrowed brow.  His shoulders seemed to relax and lower.  He turned and looked at Thomas.  His voice came quietly.  “I love you, Tommy.” He paused, shoulders rising and falling.  “And I am going to die.”

            Thomas’ chest buckled inside of him.

            “And you don’t just get to keep one of those and leave the other.  Trust me,” Newt’s eyes flickered, “I’ve tried.”

            The words were a sting to Thomas’ memory.  He spoke slowly, recognition blanketing the words.  “You did it for yourself.”

            Newt’s gaze dropped to the floor.

            “That night at the docks,” Thomas finished.   

            “I did it for both of us.”  
  
            A barked laugh broke through Thomas.

            “Don’t you dare think it was any easier on me than it was for you.”

            Thomas nodded. “Yeah, well, at least you got to have a say in the matter.  Which is more than I got.”

            “You think I had a say in this?” Newt asked, turning suddenly.  His eyes narrowed at Thomas.  “You think that I had any control over that choice?  You think I just woke up and decided it was a good day to end the first thing I’ve wa-” his words cut off on a breath.  A muscle flickered in his jaw.  He took a breath.  “This was the first thing that I found happiness in in a long time.”

            Thomas’ heart flinched as Newt’s earlier words came shooting back to him.

            “This isn’t just twitching hands and dark veins, Thomas,” Newt said, taking a step closer.  “This is forgetting a number I said ten minutes ago because my brain decided it didn’t have room anymore.  This is hearing something that nobody around me even said.  It’s being mentally dragged away somewhere else entirely and having to pull myself back with no memory of the previous conversation.  It’s the world tilting sideways and I’m the only one who doesn’t have anything to hold onto to keep myself steady.”

            Thomas held his gaze, tried to steady his heart.  His voice came cracked and broken, pleading.  “Then hold onto me.”

            Newt pulled his head back and turned away.

            “We can find an answer,” Thomas insisted, taking a step forward.  “We can find something to help.  We start with the serum.”

            “Would you forget the damn serum?”

            “Why?”

            “Because it doesn’t make a difference!” Newt snapped back.  He breathed out, exasperated.  “This is more than just infection, Tommy.  There’s a part of this that’s just me.  That’s something you can’t just fix with serum.”

            “Maybe not,” Thomas said.  “But it’s something we can work on.  Together.  And we will.”  He held Newt’s gaze.  “We’re going to save Minho.  And then I’m going to save you.”

            Newt shook his head.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

            Thomas shrugged.  “Haven’t you heard?  That’s my signature move.”  He swallowed and steadied his eyes on Newt’s.  “But this is one I intend on keeping.”

            Newt watched him, skepticism written in the shadows on his face.

            “I mean it,” Thomas said.  He hardened his voice.  “Now zip up the jacket, grab your gun, and let’s finish this.  Once and for all.”

            “You wanna promise me something, Tommy?” Newt asked.  “Then promise me that Minho comes first.”

            Thomas clenched his jaw.  He wanted to fight this, wanted to tell Newt that it was possible to save them both; that he would make it possible.  He nodded.  When Newt turned away, Thomas did as well.  He closed the distance to the door, the hold in his chest buckling further.  He paused then, hand on the doorknob.  The silence in the room was encompassing, and when he spoke, his words cracked like wood.  “I do too, you know.”  He turned from the door and looked back at Newt.

            Newt stood leaned over at the desk; one hand braced on the edge, one curled around something at his chest. But Thomas focused on his eyes and the way they glistened beneath the lights along the mirror; how the flames from the candles caused shadows to slither across his face. 

            Thomas continued, “but I won’t say it until you can hear it for what it really is, and not as ‘goodbye’.”  He twisted the knob and pulled, stepping into the darkness of the alter.  He closed the door softly behind him and leaned back onto it. 

            His heart fought against his chest.  He shut his eyes, the pressure behind them enough to cleave his head in two.  His body struggled to keep still, muscles tightening and breath shallow. 

            Something behind the door shattered to the floor in a crash and the dam inside of Thomas’ chest broke.  As he breathed out of caving lungs, his eyes burned and vision blurred.  His head swam, blood rushing in his ears.  His muscles gave out in one of his legs, knee breaking forward, the door behind him the only solid force keeping him up as his body shook against it.  His entire body ached.  Everything ached.  And in a shattered moment of clarity, Thomas realized that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

             
  
  


            “Hey Greenie,” Gally’s voice sounded somewhere to his left.

            Thomas turned to see the silhouette in the glow of the setting sun that streamed through the stained glass.  Slowly, his head grew lighter.  His chest expanded with an inhale and the sounds around him cleared.

            “We gotta go,” Gally continued.  “Clock’s ticking.”  
  
            “I know,” Thomas managed over a shaking breath.  He watched as Gally nodded and walked across the alter, off the steps and down the aisle.  Thomas let his head fall back against the door.  He closed his eyes and he breathed.  “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back for another chapter!! Have this one on a Wednesday. The final scene took over three days of revisions before I finally bit the bullet and posted it as is. It's a scene that's been playing on repeat in my head since I've seen the movie. And to finally sit down and write it out... it was a lot harder than I imagined. 
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Gally’s Return - I was so excited to finally get here! Gally holds a special place in my heart. Finally being able to write him was so fun. Hope you all like how I went about his character.
> 
> 2\. Rebel Radio - So, we have the scene at The Wall with Gally on the truck with the other Rebels speaking into the radio/loud speaker. I know it’s not quite a “radio” per se, but I figured, maybe they could patch into stations. They seem to be the fighting leaders, so I don’t see why they wouldn’t be rallying people all over, not just at The Wall.
> 
> 3\. Just a note that, if you haven’t noticed, I count the deleted scenes as canon. So, the tunnel scene with the train happened, as far as I’m concerned. Also the scene by the telescope where Gally talked to Thomas about Chuck. So did the others.
> 
> 4\. Gally and Frypan were best friends in the Glade. Fight me. 
> 
> 5\. Hey look. Frypan learned how to use a crane! Handy knowledge…
> 
> 6\. More planning! Figuring out the Big Rescue!!! This was a fun conversation to write.
> 
> 7\. I didn’t write out Newt’s Flare/Limp confession. Those scenes mean something different to a lot of people for a lot of reasons, so I didn’t want to morph them - if that makes sense. They’re very important scenes and I want everyone to keep them as they’d like. Instead, gap scenes of what comes after.
> 
> 8\. Thomas has now come to the realization that Newt broke it off between them because he’s going to die. Thomas isn’t very happy with this decision. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so, so, so much for following this story. The final chapter/Epilogue will be posted soon. I cannot put into words what your support means.
> 
> I’ll see you soon <3


	36. On Epitaphs and Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Yes, Thomas, It's Possible: A Person Can Be Home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           Thomas knew all about time’s ability to slow down.

 

 

 

            He remembered the way it slowed when he stumbled, mid-run, tumbling down into soft grass.  The way the blades seemed to move in the breeze like molasses from a bottle.  The laughter of the boys around the box sounding out in a muffled, low blur.

 

            He remembered how time slowed when he watched Minho struggling to pull Alby out of the Maze, the boys waving sluggishly to beckon him forward.

 

 

           

            He remembered the way it slowed the first time he saw WCKD wheeling a body through a hallway of the facility, dust from the vents swirling around him.

 

            When WCKD’s bergs breeched the mountain and bombed the camp, he watched bodies fall like they were lowered from strings.  Cautiously, so they’d land just right. He remembered how time slowed then.

 

            He remembered the way time slowed as Minho was pulled away, dragged across the sand and into the berg.  He watched Teresa turn her head and look back at him before the berg’s gradual ascent.  His heartbeat echoing dully inside of his chest.  _Slow. Slow. Slow._

 

            He felt time slip slowly the day he stumbled through the facility; when he watched Frypan get pulled up by one of WCKD’s scientists.  When Thomas pushed a knife into the neck of a stranger, he felt time drip down his arm.

           

            Time slowed when he tasted mint and honey, when grass and moss swirled into his senses and a canteen fell to the sand next to him like a grenade.  It slowed when he and Newt shared breaths, shared heartbeats, shared everything. 

 

            It slowed when Thomas ran across a littered battlefield, watching Newt fall to his knees.  It slowed when Newt fell back against him, trees taking their time as they swayed in an unhurried breeze.

 

 

            The dawning realization that Minho wasn’t on the train.  That was time slowing down.  Newt turning away from him at the docks, in the room, in the garage.  Newt’s blurred voice melting into Thomas’ shattered chest.  That was time slowing down.

 

            Watching a train move at the speed of sound and suddenly slow to a jarring blur over Newt and Gally was time slowing down.

 

            Newt pulling up the sleeve of a maroon jacket on the edge of a roof was time slowing down.

 

            Teresa meeting his eyes in a crowded city street with lights and murmured voices echoing off damp concrete.  That was time slowing down.

 

            Looking up to see Minho staring back at them, shoulders rising and dropping with heavy breaths was time slowing down.

 

            Leaping from a broken window was time slowing down.

 

            Running through dark chaos across city streets, gunshots and sirens echoing around him.  That was time slowing down.

 

 

            Yes, Thomas was familiar with time slowing down.  What he wasn’t familiar with, was time’s ability to stop completely.

 

 

 

 

           

***

 

 

 

 

 

            The power surge in the city brought Thomas sliding back to the present moment.  Teresa’s voice still slunk through his veins but he chased it down with inhales of a polluted city, smoke and humidity. He had to get to the others.  He had to get to the serum.

            He had to get Newt back to Lawrence’s.

 

            The crooked stance was enough to unnerve Thomas.  Tilted shoulders, weight on one leg, jacket nearly falling off.  Black veins lost themselves in wet, matted hair.

            “Newt?”

            No response came.  Thomas’ heart beat slow in his chest.  A reminder of how much time was passing.

            Newt’s head angled itself.  Slowly, slowly, slowly, it turned. 

            Black plated eyes and matching spiderwebbed veins shone under the bright fluorescent lights of the building.  Blackened blood dripped like molasses. 

 

            And then time stopped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

           

 

 

            “Alright there, Alby?”

            Thomas turned to the left.  A boy a bit taller than him with wild blonde hair sticking up in every direction ambled toward them, complete with lopsided smile.

            “Green bean,” Alby smiled.  “Meet Newt.”

 

 

\---

 

 

            “Helluva first day, Greenie,” Newt said, breath hot and laced with something sweet.  “Here. Put some hair on your chest.”  
            Thomas took the jar from Newt and eyed its honey color.  It was strong and stung his nostrils and something about it made Thomas unsure.  But this kid – _Newt,_ he reminded himself – seemed to be the only one around here who was worth talking to.  The only one who seemed like he would listen and, more importantly, the only one who might give him answers.

            The drink burned the back of his tongue and his saliva pooled in the corners of his jaw. Over his sputtering coughs, he could hear a small, cracked, high-pitched laugh.

            “Oh my god,” Thomas managed to choke out. “What is that?”

            “I don’t even know,” Newt laughed next to him.

 

 

\---

 

 

            Thomas steadied himself again as the Crank tumbled off the ledge.  Without a second thought, he reached down and grabbed Newt’s hand, yanking him up.

            “Thanks, Tommy,” Newt panted.

            Thomas’ legs burned as he ran.

 

            It was in the cool evening that Thomas found himself stuck on the words – stuck on the nickname.  Somehow, it felt familiar, comforting.  It made him think of home – wherever that might be. 

 

 

\---

 

 

            The glow of the firelight brushed Newt’s face as he turned to Thomas.  “There is a place for us somewhere out there,” he said, voice low so as not to wake the others.  “I don’t know where it is, but I do know that an awful lot of our friends have died for us to get this far.  So we can’t give up.  _You_ can’t give up. I won’t let you.”

            Thomas turned to Newt and saw firelight dancing in his eyes.  The brown turned to gold for a moment.  Something in Thomas stirred.  Gold was a fitting color for Newt, he decided. 

 

 

\---

 

 

            The air was cool up here on the mountain.  Enough for them to grab jackets and gloves and, even then, it was still quite cold.  Thomas turned to the side and watched absently as Newt blew into his hands and rubbed them together.  Thomas felt a sudden urge to take Newt’s hands in his, warm them.  Put them in his own pockets. 

            He blinked himself back to focus and pushed the thought from his head.  Why would he do that? Newt had pockets of his own. 

 

 

\---

 

 

            “If you’re gonna stay out here all night again, you should at least take a blanket with you.”

            Thomas’ gaze slid to the left where a tattered once-white blanket dropped into the sand next to him.  Beyond that, two brown boots stepped into view, barely laced, as if they were just slipped on carelessly.

            “After everything we went through it’d be rather anti-climactic to have you put out with a cold, yeah?”  A small chuckle prefaced Newt dropping down to sit next to him, lanky arms resting on bent knees.

 

 

\---

 

 

            “Bloody hell, Tommy!”  The words were far too close to his ear for the volume that Newt put behind them.  He could feel his goddamned breath on his cheek.

            Thomas pulled at the cloth again and, in a quick ripping sound, the hole expanded and Thomas was able to pull the sleeve apart.  He let the cloth fall down to Newt’s forearm, bunching around his wrist. “There, now you look like a real shank.”

            Newt turned his head from his now-bare shoulder to look at Thomas and Thomas felt something tighten in his throat.

 

 

\---

 

 

            “Right, well.  When there’s no light from the moon, the dial doesn’t cast a shadow.  It’s gone and you sort of have to work out the time on your own.”  Thomas swallowed, wishing his heart would stop pounding against his chest – wishing he knew why it was in the first place. “I need to know you’re always gonna be here, Newt, even when it’s dark.  I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

            There was a silence now across the moonlit scorch.  Rustling blankets and whispers floated toward them, but nothing audible.  The only thing Thomas heard clearly was Newt’s voice.

            “I go where you go.”

           

 

\---

 

            He watched another crooked white flash burst across the sky, splitting everything, everything, everything apart.

            His heart pounded beneath his chest, beneath Newt’s fists curled into the material of the jacket.

            Newt’s hair brushed against Thomas’ neck, his forehead pressed onto Thomas’ shoulder, his own body rising and falling with breaths that came quick and short.  
            There were cracks and crashes of thunder.

            There were heartbeats and breaths.

            There was Newt.

            Thomas’s arms wrapped around him, holding him to himself.  He let his head fall back onto the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and breathed with him.

 

 

\---

 

 

            “You told Matt not to nickname you.”

            Thomas blinked his focus back, watching Newt’s lips move a few inches from him.  “Yeah…”

            “So, I thought maybe…”

            “But you’re different,” Thomas said, dropping his gaze back to Newt’s eyes.

            “Am I?”

 

 

\---

 

 

            “It’s you,” he breathed.

            “What?”

            “It’s you.”

            Newt’s eyes flicked between Thomas’.  “What’s me?”

            “Everything. All of it.  Everything.  Later and now and… and first and second chances and timing and-,” Thomas’ breath shortened. His hands were shaking at his sides from the vibration of his heart pounding against his chest. His leg was bouncing, his head was spinning and words were spilling out of him that he didn’t even register.

            “Tommy, mate, Tommy,” Newt’s hands were on his shoulders, stilling him.  “Breathe, take a second.”

            But Thomas was done with taking any more time.

            He reached up, grasped the collar of Newt’s shirt, and pulled him down.

 

 

\---

 

 

            Thomas huffed a laugh to himself as he got a better grip with one of his hands.  He used the other to reach up and grab the bin.  He pulled it down and tossed it to the floor next to Newt.

            “Great, you got it. You can come back down now.”

            Thomas rolled his eyes and lowered himself back down to the table.  He heard an audible sigh of relief from Newt. He smirked.

            He shifted his leg to one corner of the table and put his weight there before quickly switching it to the other leg.  The table wobbled uncontrollably beneath him.

            “Thomas!”

            He barked out a laugh at the crack in Newt’s voice.

            “If you don’t hurt yourself by falling, _I’m_ going to hurt you.”

            Thomas hopped down from the table and landed next to Newt, patting him on the back. “No offense, Newt, but your threats are empty. I’m more scared of Ian.”

            Newt swatted Thomas’ arm away.  “You’re carrying the bin.”

 

 

\---

 

 

            Thomas took it as encouragement, gave into his stupid thoughts.  “Can I…”

            Newt’s eyes bore into Thomas’.  He nodded.

            Something broke loose in Thomas’ chest.  He felt his heart pick up even more, didn’t know it was possible.  “Yeah?”

            Newt nodded again and this time a small smile curled up on one side.  “Yeah.”

            The tension in Thomas’ muscles eased just slightly, he felt his mouth twitch into a smile.  He stepped a bit closer, dropped his eyes to Newt’s mouth again.  He let single laugh out on a breath.  He tilted his head, paused, put a hand on Newt’s arm.  He met Newt’s eyes and the laughter in them and it pulled another laugh out from his own mouth.  He shook his head and looked down to the asphalt below them.  He heard a small breath from Newt as he let out another laugh too.

            “Tommy, come here.”

 

 

\---

 

 

            “Are you okay?”  Thomas asked, heart hammering suddenly.  “Are you good?”

            “I’m good, Tommy, I’m…” Newt swallowed.  “I’m alive.”

            Thomas smiled.  “Of course you are.”

            “No, Thomas,” Newt laughed.  “I’m alive. You…” he shook his head.

            Thomas felt his heart pound somewhere beneath the surface of the water.

            “You make me feel alive,” Newt breathed.  He corrected himself.  “You make me feel like I’m living.”

 

 

\---

 

 

            “I mean that…” Thomas sighed, pressing his mouth closed. He reached forward and turned Newt toward him, answering with action instead of the words that seemed to be failing him.

            Newt pulled away just slightly and breathed a question against Thomas’ mouth.  “Is that a yes?”

            Thomas nodded. “It’s a hundred yesses.”

            Newt smiled, but backed up slightly.  The smile quirked up on one side as he spoke.  “Only a hundred?”

 

 

\---

 

 

            “Not for the sling,” Newt smirked.  He reached forward, tugging the sleeve from Thomas’ left shoulder.  There was a quick snip at the seam and then Newt tossed the scissors aside in favor of using his hands to tear the sleeve from the shirt.  Thomas felt the sleeve slide down his arm and bundle around his wrist against the broken watch.  “Least Harriet could’ve done was cut both sleeves.”

            Thomas’ eyes flicked between Newt’s.

            Newt shrugged.  “Now we’re even.”

            Something loosened in Thomas’ chest and he felt air rush through his lungs as his heart pounded to keep up.  “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

            Newt’s mouth curled up into a lopsided smile.  “You’re the one with your sleeves cut off.”

            But Thomas wasn’t smiling.  He wasn’t laughing.  He was reaching forward to the back of Newt’s neck, he was pulling, and he was falling.

 

 

\---

 

            “Do you think about colors?”  
  
            Thomas shifted his gaze from the window, but his eyes didn’t quite reach Newt.  “Colors?”  
  
            “Yeah.”  
  
            Thomas tilted his head.  “What do you mean?”  
  
            “What’s your favorite?”  
  
            Thomas pulled his legs up closer to him.  “I don’t know.  Never really thought about it, I guess.”  
  
            “Well now that you are, what do you think it is?”  
  
            Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know.  I don’t really think about colors.  There’s a bit more going on than worrying about which ones are prettier than others,” he laughed, trying to get Newt to smile.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

            Thomas blinked, the electric blues and damp pavement coming back to him.  Still smoke, debris and rust. 

            And black eyes.

 

            In the frozen moment, Thomas realized that maybe Newt was on to something.  Maybe there was importance in colors.  And if he could go back, Thomas knew how he would answer. 

            Thomas knew he would tell Newt that he did have a favorite color.

 

            It was the color of Newt’s eyes in the light of campfires, flames bringing out ribbons of soft browns.  It was the color of moonlight glancing off strands of blonde hair.  It was the color of a tall, thin silhouette against a rising sun, surrounded by pinks, purples and light blues. There were so many colors that Thomas could have chosen as his favorite. 

 

            But the only color he saw now was black.

 

            And as time started to move again and caught up with him, ticking with the pound of his heartbeat, Thomas knew for certain there wasn’t a single color he hated more than black.

 

            Newt lunged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  

** Epilogue **

 

 

 

 

            The sand sank just slightly beneath Thomas’ boots as he stood at the water’s edge.  The sun glimmered over the horizon and began its climb up to the sky. The sea continued its sway onto the shore and back again, rhythmic and steady.  And Thomas tried to anchor himself.

            He used the weight in his chest to ground his thoughts.  Still, they spiraled.

            He could feel the ache behind his eyes, the building pressure of holding back a wave of memory. Bits and pieces seeped through the splintering dam as Thomas took shallow breaths.

 

            Thin arms snaked around his waist, pulling his focus back.  A soft press of a kiss to his neck caused a shiver to spider up his body. 

            “What’s going on, Tommy?” Newt’s voice was low, just barely above a whisper.  “I see your wheels spinning.”

            Thomas breathed out a laugh through his nose.  His voice was raspy and low when he spoke. “You always see my wheels spinning.”

            “I always see you.”  
  
            Thomas attempted a smile, but kept his mouth closed tight. He blinked back against the burning sting behind his eyes.

            A light touch of fingers pressed to the side of his jaw and turned his face to the left.

            Newt’s brown eyes looked into his own.  Concern laced through them in bands of gold from the sunrise. 

            Thomas felt the heavy weight in his chest as he looked back at him, taking in every feature and every breath.  He blinked back a memory of black eyes and veins, of black blood and horrid screams.

            Newt’s left hand slowly inched back until it was settled at the back of Thomas’ neck; cool metal contrasted the warmth of his own skin as it pressed into him.

            He let his head fall forward just a bit to rest against Newt’s forehead, and his eyes fluttered closed.  Damp moss and mint flooded Thomas’ senses and flowed through his veins to become a part of him. He took steadying breaths in.

            “Hey,” Newt said quietly.  “I’m right here.”

            Thomas could feel the buildup in his head push forward.  He kept his eyes closed against it.  “Are you?”

            There was another small press to the back of his neck and Thomas focused on the thin metal; tried to use it to center himself. 

            “Thomas,” Newt breathed, and then amended, “Tommy.”  
  
            Thomas swallowed.  
  
            “Get out of that memory,” Newt continued.  “Come back to me.”

            Thomas tensed.  His chest splintered.

            “Come back to me here,” Newt continued. “Come back home.”

            “I’m trying,” Thomas barely managed on the tail of an exhale. He strained to keep his eyes closed, keep them from opening.  

            “Come home, Tommy,” Newt whispered.

            His chest bowed and snapped and he felt a choked gasp break silently through him.  Thomas’ breaths came quick and shaking, but slowly wound down.  He breathed with the ocean as it lapped upon the shore and quietly made its way back. 

            There was a lightness that settled inside of him now, clearing the pressure that had built in his head.  Everything seeped out of him on an exhale.

            The corner of his mouth quirked up and, when Newt spoke, Thomas could hear the tilt in his murmur.  “There’s that smile I love.”

            Thomas held onto those words.

 

            When he opened his eyes, Thomas’ vision wavered in the glow from the sunlight streaming off of waves.  And when he looked down to the sea reaching out to him, he saw reflections of home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, closure comes in fix-its, in alternate timelines and AUs. Maybes and what-ifs. It comes in "this could have happened"s and denial and redos.
> 
> Sometimes, closure comes in the harsh reality. In accepting truths and fact. Basking in the pain and darkness of a situation. Sometimes, you need to hold on to the pain.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> From the very bottom of my heart to the very very top I want to say a BIG thank you to every single person who has read this fic and followed along. If it hadn't been for you, I honestly probably would have abandoned this and just written it for myself or kept the ideas in my head until they fizzled out.
> 
> This is the first actual piece of fanfiction I've ever written and posted for others to read and the support has been tremendous. So thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> I hope this ending wraps up the fic for you all in a way that suits you best. Sorry for all of the repetitive paragraphs. It was sort of my own little way of remembering and saying goodbye to this story with the memories of it. 
> 
> Please, please, please feel free to reach out ANY TIME on tumblr(comebacknow) or twitter(@frickinfoxface) and talk to me! I'm always happy to discuss TMR any day of the year. 
> 
> Also, our TMR discord is still running at full speed. If you'd like an invite, reach out to me and I'd be more than happy to bring you into the fray. 
> 
> Again, I cannot say it enough - thank you all for the support and love that you've given this project. I'm thrilled to know that you've enjoyed and endured it.
> 
> Lots of things can happen in six months.
> 
>  
> 
> And speaking of six months, September 5th will be exactly six months since I've started posting this fic. Perhaps something else will be posted that day to commemorate our 6-month journey with Talk Me Home. ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [On Babies and Bumblings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203551) by [avatar_dragon_rider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatar_dragon_rider/pseuds/avatar_dragon_rider)
  * [On Shirts and Snogging](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276397) by [avatar_dragon_rider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatar_dragon_rider/pseuds/avatar_dragon_rider)
  * [Where You Lead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672899) by [KathSilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathSilver/pseuds/KathSilver)




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